Ruthless and Ivory
by MujerN
Summary: The full story to the Red Ribbon assassin-Finalist to Tattward and Inkella Contest: She finds every corpse he hides. She follows every trail he leaves behind. A ribbon. A clue. A crime. She doesn't know he'll do anything to keep her alive.
1. Prologue

This is the full-length version of my **Red Ribbon** oneshot. Thanks to **Tattward and Inkella** contest, for all who read it, and my friends **(jayisuncouth aka SavMed****, Vantastic, Juma and Beige-the philanthropist and brilliant Beta)** who pushed me to write it—I'm here. Many of you lovely reviewers asked, stalked and even threatened me for a multi-chapter. I'm scared of you so if you asked, you shall receive (as best in my ability to give it). My heart made a sound every time a review came in. :-)

This one is an idea I had for a while that I haven't seen around here anywhere. It will not be similar to Red Ribbon in some ways. My Edward plans to be a real ruthless bastard. Maybe you won't like him, maybe you'll hate him, but please, keep a spot in your heart for him.

Since I'm a tomboy at heart, I'm into the violent/grungy/angst stuff. My bro is a Marine and I assure you (and brag at times) that I can kill with my bare hands. Ok, not really, but I can do a couple of good moves that includes only my pinky finger. Ok, not really, but I can flip a grown man to the ground, how's that? A nice memory as a kid was watching all the movies girls didn't like watching with my bro in the basement. He'd bring me a blanket and we'd munch on cheese puffs and orange soda he'd stash in his lil fridge. He never let anyone go in there but me. So, I guess I'm dedicating this to him, though he'll never read it cuz I'll never let him. Here's to you, Rat. *pours some drink on ground—watches it disappear*

Remember: Boston public school system was a bitch to my writing skillz. I be thinkin' I haz dem. I juss haz a bit of poetree in my heart, yo.

**I DO NOT own Twilight or the characters. **If I did, I'd be rich and preferably in bed with Rob—ergo, not here writing FF. I just own a black mini-S and my iphone. **Please, review if you agree with what you will read. I love feedback and ideas. Tell me what you'd like to see. No, seriously...I have no idea what I'm doing. Heh.**

|:::::[-]:::i):::| —Tighten your belt. It's gonna be a bumpy ride.

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**Ruthless and Ivory – Prologue**

I'm a murderer. A ruthless, brutal, cold-blooded murderer. I live in the night. I walk with it as my companion. My work demands dark corners and shadows. But I don't consider it work. It has never been work. It never feels like an effort. It made me who I am at this very moment—at this very instant. It prepared me for this second where I feel adrenaline rushing through each vein in my neck, shoulders, arms, connecting to my hands and down my gloved fingers. I know I'm fully charged when I feel it building at the tip of my index finger, where it cradles the trigger. Nothing matters at this point. Not at this very moment when I see red. The darkness turns red. The brick wall behind me…red. I strain to listen and slow my breathing to hear every wave of sound around me. Sound travels farther and sharper at night. I close my eyes knowing darkness will consume the bright contrasting white of my eyes visible to trained, searching eyes.

I am waiting.

Waiting is what I do. For every second I take a new breath, I wait. I wake up and I wait. I sleep restlessly because I wait. I wait because my life depends on it, because waiting is my purpose. Patience is a virtue. What I wait for is what drives me and owns me. It's a burden I carry everywhere I go. What is the point of a human life that only waits? It is wasted and dominated by the very thing that makes it wait; a life that is not my own.

I don't have a normal life. I don't want to be normal. Never have I wished for it or envied those that walk around me living it. 9 to 5 jobs, lovers, children, homes, friends…none of it ever fit me. I was never connected to it in any way. The only similarities in all of them and me are flesh and blood. The fate of our souls run along different paths.

My youth was broken and taken from me. I was forced to live on these streets because I was never wanted. It led me to learn everything I needed to survive on my own. From this hell on earth, I was dragged into another. At first, I didn't know it would turn out the way it did. I was relieved to be found and I thought I was fortunate. For a while I was content. For a while I thought my life was worth a place—a speck on this earth. But I was lied to. Lies like the ones spoken by strangers on streets that faked their friendship and guardians in abusive foster homes. I was alone. I am numb, as I was then because there was nothing in me to salvage.

In the end, what I learned was to never trust again. Enemies, whom I hunt for everyday, were once my saving grace. They betrayed me. I will end them even with the last drop of blood that pumps through my heart. I seek revenge. I seek justice and satisfaction.

I am changed.

I hide in the shadows with the harsh memories of how I evolved here. "The best of our kind", they've said. I am reminded everyday of the pressure that goes with that title. I can tell the subtle ways they assign me the most difficult jobs. I see the stares from the others, when they know I've been promoted. The praise doesn't affect me. I don't phase it. This is not a game. I am disgusted to know they envy. At the end of the day we're all murderers. We are all sinners.

As I ease back to the present moment, I focus to my left and lean my head on the hard bricks. I finally hear the faint sound I've been waiting for. Waiting that finally turns into action.

It is time.

I move my right hand off the magasine and trail it to the top of my gun. With a silent quickness, I move my fingers over the cold metal, swiftly cocking it to prepare for what is inevitable. I feel a slight draft coming from my left, precisely 12 feet away. My target is coming closer at a slow steady pace. I can sense him moving a foot a stride at a time. I know this by the echo from the pavement under his shoes that are grinding on the wet surface from the rain. It stopped pouring conveniently 21 minutes prior to the exact moment I prepared my gun. I need all the help I can get. The wind usually soothes me, but right now I need it to still for a better aim. Knowing I've done my calculations correctly, and I'm always precise, I know the trail of the bullet needs to keep steady for a clean shot to the skin between his eyes. This can be over as quickly as it began.

With my eyes firmly closed, I can cancel out my sense of sight, which enhances my ability to hear all details. Balancing senses is one of the tricks we learned in our training. It's second nature.

The target is at 7 feet and I can hear his pace pick up slightly. He's anxious. I can sense his nerves and I bask in it, sighing silently. I love when their nerves take over. They get sloppy and loose control. It adds to my adrenaline, making my head lift and fall back against the brick wall as I inhale damp air. _Fools._

_5.5 feet._

I bring my gun to my face, pointing it to the cloudy midnight sky above me. The metal gleams in the moonlight, accenting the ivory base around the grip. My Ivory girl. She's been good to me. She's been my friend for many years.

_4.10 feet._

As a ritual for every moment like this, I close the inch between Ivory and myself and press my lips to her barrel, feeling her cold. A kiss for every life she buries…a kiss for saving mine.

_3 feet._

This is my prayer. This is my plea. A plea for fate to keep from taking me—I whisper, "_Now."_

A bolt rushes through me. I dive. Everything slows, as my body turns around the corner of the brick wall. My trench coat opens around my torso. My boot digs the pavement beneath me, ripping a thinning orange leaf that had lost its way from its autumn tree—the lone whispered sound beneath me. My grip tightens around Ivory. My veins pulse with new hot blood rushing to the tip of my finger.

In a fraction of a second, I'm in full view and pull the trigger.

The deafening echo Ivory makes that breaks the silence, assures me. I'm alone again. I open my eyes to find the target glowing in the moonlight, casting dark blue shadows below me. It lies on its back over his debris. Blood is seeping down a dirty drain that glistens from wet rain. The echo slowly fades.

It's done.

I will never know if he had a family, or if he was loved. I was trained to never question—never care. Whoever finds him, will never know I was the hired assassin. I walk away. I am Edward Masen, and I never look back.


	2. Chapter 1: Fourteen

HI! I did it, I wrote chapter one! :-D

If you celebrated it, I hope your Thanksgiving was wonderful. If not, I hope your week was wonderful. I was slightly in a Turkey coma and before that, New Moon showed up. I guess those are good excuses for not updating quick, right? HOLY HELL, wasn't Edward just soooo, ung, ovary killer? I was smart. I froze some of my eggs before watching. ;-) I saw the wonky mipple too and I _still _wanted to lick it. *Unicorned* I can't wait to see his 'V' appear again soon in the next movies. And the wolfpack! More like _8pack_. (O.O) HOLY CRABCAKES, that Taylor and that Paul! I'd punch him upside the face repeatedly, too! No one deserves to be that hot and not pay for it in fist sandwiches. Seriously. He'll have to make an appearance on this FF. :-) The Wolfpack won me over this time around. I actually whispered at one point: "Bella, just run away with him. Do it, you stupid whore." I know, I know. *Shoulders drop* It's his sweetness and his abs that did it. :-/ My sister's sarcastic text during the movie said: A girl having to choose over two gorgeous men? Pfft. What a problem. lol She's not a fan so much.

But I have to point out one thing. Was it just me, or was the vision hilarious? People at the theater laughed_. _Yes, _laughed_ at them running through the meadow. Both times I watched it, they laughed. LOL I felt like an overprotective offended parent. I had the urge to stand and yell at them 'suck on your toes' or 'up yours' or 'you're just mean people who just want to be mean!' Is Weitz aware of this? Probably not. We should send him an email.

Ok, I'll stop rambling. I won't ramble so much on these as the chapters move forward. I'm just too excited over the movie. Thanks sooo much for your feedback! I laughed hard and my heart leaped. **Please Review if you like this direction. Please review if you don't. I'd appreciate it.** I have goodies in store. Hang in there.

**I don't own Twilight.** I just own a Mini and my FF reading device—iPhone.

|:::::[-]:::i):::| —Tighten yours

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**Chapter One – Fourteen**

**Bella Swan**

I can only hear blood pulsing in a rush through my ears. The chaos around me is evidence that my senses are obscured. Cars have collided. Some are in flames, others are disappearing in thick black smoke. People are running for cover away from their cars. Their hands cover their ears and heads. Some are dropping to the ground for protection. Many bleed from scraps and wounds. A parent holds a child close to their chest, looking terrified. Everyone looks terrified.

What is going on?

I realize I'm sitting in my car watching, when I look down at my stiff hands on the steering wheel. My attention focuses on red running down from gashes all over them. The blood curves around my wrist and down my arms, dripping on my lap. I know I should feel pain but I can't find a way to understand or process it. I am numb.

I peal my fingers one by one off the leather and bring my palms close to my face. They are shaking uncontrollably. In my peripheral vision I see movement outside of the windshield. The rain is pouring over the glass in transparent florescent streaks, making the twilight clouded sky looks like it's in tears. Hands forgotten, I jolt from a dent formed on the hood of the car. Black pants covering a pair of legs and boots. Just as quickly they are gone again.

I start panting, feeling fear creep up my chest. I look at all angles to find the legs and wonder to whom they belong to. With my hands still shaking I blindly force them on the door handle. I squeeze it once and feel pain shoot through my arm. I hiss a second time knowing I'll have to try again. Both hands don't seem to help it budge open. It's no use.

I look at the passenger door, wondering if it'll work. Before I reach across, an unknown force roughly swings my door open. The hinges quake as they almost tear. Without hesitation, I swing my legs out of the car and ease out. My legs work. Everything seems to be in place. I'm looking all around me trying to find whoever opened the door. I wondered if the person in black pants and boots granted me the heroic favor. But who is it? Where is he?

I feel myself go dizzy when I turn too fast to look behind me at the damaged car. It's caved in at the front, a foot shy from the dash. I exhale sharply as a sob escapes my chest when I realize I miraculously got out in one piece. Moving my eyes to the back of the car, I see the reason for the crash. A large SUV is towering over the back like a predator in black. It doesn't seem damaged anywhere near the way my car is.

I scan the area knowing everyone around me is going through the same ordeal. I don't understand what horrible tragedy has caused all of this. I'm half aware that I should be hearing all the screams, sirens, horns and the sound fire makes on burning metal. But I can't. And I'm alone. The loneliness goes deeper than my wounds.

The wind slightly shifts from my right. I know there's movement and I look, as quickly as my daze would let me. A tall black figure is running fast towards me. It's still blurred from the distance between us but I can make out what he holds in its hand. The gun gleams in the rain…and it's pointed at me.

My instinct breaks me out of my haze. I turn and run the opposite direction, leaving my car behind. The fear is so heavy in my lungs I am panting with my mouth open. The rain seeps in my mouth and I try not to choke. I know I can't hesitate for one second, feeling the black figure at my heels. I cannot imagine why I'm being chased, but I know I have to keep running.

I look back. A boost of energy rushes through me when I see the figure closer than I had calculated. I plead for my legs to not cave under me.

_Please God. Why is this happening?!_

To my horror, I've failed. I feel a strong hand grab my arm. It yanks me back. My feet leave the earth and I leap a few feet. With one shriek, I frantically kick my legs to set me free. I fight and twist with all my strength. I need to face my worst nightmare. I want to see who will end me. He is faceless.

I scream. Black smoke and dark shadows surround me. The figure's face looks like it's made of darkness. The blackest color I've ever seen. I feel as though I'm being sucked into its depths. The end is infinity.

I feel the cold metal of the gun creep under my neck. I'm forced to lift my head to keep as far away from it as I can. I swallow my screams when I feel myself choking. The rain doesn't help.

_What is this?! Please…someone!_

It is wrapped around my upper body in a death grip and it's slowly crushing my chest. I begin to shrug out of its hold on me. I fall on my back as I'm released. The smoke fades and its back to its original form. I don't stop long enough to try understanding why it let go. I scramble to my feet and continue running the same direction. I know its still behind me, but I have try. Even with the last string of strength I have in me, I have to keep running.

I see a metal fence ahead of me that separates grass from the road. My muscles are already tensing just imagining how I'll have to get over it.

This will slow me down. _I can't afford to slow down._

I sneak a peek behind me to see how much time I have. It's gone. The black figure isn't behind me. I stop and frantically look around me. I'm afraid it'll sneak up to me. He wasn't far away. _Where is he?_

Relief washes over me. My breathing slows. The gun is gone. The smoke is gone. The confusion is gone. I notice then that the figure isn't the only one gone. Everyone else is gone. All the cars and people and chaos are gone. What remains is my car—untouched and safe. It sat exactly where I left it. There was no SUV, no dent in the front or flames.

I grab at my speeding heart, knowing I'll be ok. I run my hand through my hair. The rain is still pouring over me. I remember the fence and turn to look back. I'm relieved I won't have to jump over it.

But I shouldn't have turned. I should've run back to the car and driven off—far away.

I'm faced with a gun one inch from my face. My heart jolted again in a fraction of a second. I felt the ground beneath me disappear.

Green eyes. Beyond the gun, all I could see was a pair of very dark piercing green eyes. Suddenly, I can hear again. A loud excruciating scream penetrated through my awakened ears. It was me.

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I wake up in a start, sitting up. I don't know if you've ever experienced hearing a loud sound in a dream and when you wake up you realize it was real. A scream so loud it meshes with your dream and becomes part of it.

Fourteen. Fourteen was the number of times I've had this dream haunting my sleep for the last four months. And every time it happens I scream until I wake myself up. It seems to be routine now. I still don't understand what it all means. Green eyes. Who do they belong to? Why does he want to kill me?

I must be going insane.

Still sitting with the blanket over my lap, I leap a few inches off the bed at the sound of my alarm clock going off. 5:30. I detest the bright red numbers screaming out at me. I've decided the worst sound in the universe has to be this piece of plastic mechanical junk.

I reach over to smack the 'off' button. Usually, I snooze for half an hour to the very last minute, until 6 am. In my opinion, every minute counts. But thanks to the nightmare, I might as well get up. I crawl out of bed and switch on the lamp on the nightstand, illuminating my room with a soft glow. This will adjust my eyes to the bright morning with ease.

I start for the bathroom to take a shower, grabbing the towel off the footboard. I left it there last night when I washed my hair before bed. Now I've broken a sweat from, apparently, running away from guns and a shadow, I'll need another shower.

I switch the bathroom light on and realize the lamp was a wasted technique. The fluorescent lights eat at my corneas. Shit. I feel for the sink with my eyes closed and turn the knobs, quickly grabbing the toothbrush and paste. They're all where they're supposed to be. After brushing my teeth, I look at the mirror and see the streaks of tears down my cheeks. They never fail. This nightmare takes emotions out of me, even when I'm not conscious.

Should I get help? I don't know. It's just weird. I've never had dreams that haunt me like this. I don't think I have guts to get a shrink. I hardly have friends so I doubt I'll be able to talk to a stranger. I can't talk to Charlie about this, it'll just worry him. It would definitely be awkward, since we hardly talk as it is. Frustrating.

I run my hands over my face knowing my last resort would be Angela or Mike from work. But what girl wants to talk to a guy about her troubling dreams? And he's been so…obnoxious lately. Angela will have to do. Even though I know she will try to convince me to get medical help, she would just have to do.

With my mind made up, I run the hot water and quickly take a shower. I run through my closet finding my 'Tuesday' outfit for work. I really don't pay much attention to fashion detail. I sort of have my own uniform for work. Wear this for Monday, this for Tuesday, that for Wednesday and the rest of the week? Mix it up with jeans. I shrug internally. Who cares? Sadly, there's nobody to impress anyway.

While I slip on my black casual slim pants and my white v-neck tee, I still feel the pain in my chest from crying. I'll have to get Tylenol to kill this and the headache starting up. It's bad when it messes with my health. Bastard dream.

After finishing up getting dressed, I grab my keys and slip on my favorite leather jacket. Every time I put it on I feel invincible—brave. I found it once in my attic in an old trunk that use to be Renee's. I have no idea why she would have a jacket like this. I was too young and it was too late to ask her. I pretend sometimes why she owned it. I let my mind run and make up stories of her riding in a Harley as her hair blows in the wind behind her. Maybe she was a badass cool chick. Who knows? Charlie sure didn't know…or at least he would never talk about it. He used to say it hurt him too much to mention her. He doesn't know it hurts me still that he never did.

She died in a car accident when I was 4. I really never had a chance to know her. I struggle sometimes to remember just a detail of her face.

At least I could wear her jacket all day and feel her closer to me and hope her 'badass' would rub off on me a bit. And trust me, I need all the help I can get. I'm a twat. A clumsy, dorky, journalist who's had nothing special in come her way. I can't catch a break. I'm what you call the epitomeof 'normal'. I'm sure Renee was amazing. I'll always believe that.

By the time I'm walking through the doors to work, I find myself still smiling at the few memories. I should probably think of her every morning to start off a good day.

"Bella! What up?"

_Ugh, speaking of horrible nightmares. _

"Nothing much, Mike. What's up with you?" I say, feeling my smile instantly fade.

"Is that a way to greet a coworker in the morning? Where's the enthusiasm? You should be _honored_ to have me in your presence...to be the first you lay eyes on when you walk in to work. You should be on your knees…"

"Go jack off in your coffee mug, Mike," I cut him off, "It's too early for your bullshit."

I hear giggles from the far left corner of the office and I know who it is. I can't fight the smirk creeping up my lips. He's too easy.

"Oh, so that's how it is? Ok, fine. But someday you'll be begging to be that coffee mug, Bella, _begging_." He walks backwards to his desk chair, tripping on the way down as he finishes his stupid little threat. His dirty blonde hair doesn't move from the handful of jell he managed to load on his head so early in the morning. His pale blue eyes are the only innocent looking body parts on him. He wears preppy clothes and a smile on his baby face that can deceive any girl who wouldn't know any better. Pretty much any girl in our office who gets a visit from Mike at her desk shares it with her lunchtime gossip circle.

"Douche," I mumble. I walk to my desk and plop down on the chair sending a wide grin at Angela. "Hi, cupcake."

"Hi, muffin." It's our little inside joke inspired from our boss' perverted baked goods name calling obsession.

"How's it hanging?" I ask, turning on my computer.

"Oh, you know, same as always…shriveled and slightly to the left." She's already bored and it's only 9am. I watch her stare blankly at her monitor.

From across the room I hear Mike swivel in his chair. I know it's coming. "Mine is great, actually, I found it shiny and bright this morning with a bit of a faint happy face smiling up at me. You wanna see for yourself?" he asks.

"Shut the fuck up, Mike!" we yell simultaneously from across the room.

"I swear, I'll file a sexual harassment slip for the second time this month! Now, quit it."

Without a word I can hear a squeaky swivel as he slowly rolls his chair back to its place. That'll keep him checked for an hour or two.

"So, I guess…" Angela whispers leaning in, "you'll be getting a slip too since you told him to jack off in his mug?"

"Ok, seriously? Did you resign as a photographer this morning and work for HR department now?"

Angela presses her lips together to stifle a laugh and shakes her head, making her black-rimmed glasses slip down her nose.

"Then shush it. He'll never notice," I say shrugging. "I just threat him with the slips now after he grabbed my ass that one time." I shudder at the thought.

Angela can't contain her laugh, "Perv. So what are you doing today?" she asks, after straightening her glasses. She's the only one I know who can pull those off and still look sexy-geek-chic. I told her once she reminds me of a happier, three-dimensional version of _MTV's Daria_ and she took it as the best compliment ever.

I sigh, feeling exhausted already. "I have more leads for the article. I should be out this afternoon to interview a couple of people who live by the latest crime scene. I just hope I can get something out of it this time, you know?"

"Well, you would think. It _has_ been a year. Why does Harry still have you on this case?"

"I don't know but I'm getting nowhere. I don't want him to take me off of it, though. I've been working on it for so long. It's frustrating but I'm determined to get answers. I have to. It would be a wasted year of my career if I didn't. I can't believe the killer hasn't been caught. This monster is roaming the city, murdering anyone he gets his hands on. That is, if he's a 'He'."

Angela seems deep in thought. "Whoever it is, knows exactly what they're doing. After all this time, they haven't been caught."

"And not to mention the killings look almost planned. The victims are big guys in the business world. Some own a share of the market. Most of them work for the government. But, Ange, one thing is for sure," I shift in my chair and lean towards Angela, "I know there is more than one killer. Every crime scene is different. I think it's a group."

Angela listens intently while pinching her bottom lip with her fingers. "Have you told this to Harry?"

"No. I haven't told anyone. I need more time before I lay it all out for him. The cops aren't spilling information. I don't even think they realize there's more to this than what it looks like." I look back at my monitor, waiting for it to finish starting up from its slow lag.

The sounds of an office ease into a new busy workday as workers begin to arrive. I watch as they settle in and say their 'good mornings'. I nod to a few in response.

"I did tell Harry about one thing, though." I continue looking back at Angela. "There's something specifically odd about _some_ crime scenes. It's how I figured out there are multiple killers."

"What do you mean? How do you know? And why the hell haven't you told me this?!" Angela looks at me slightly wide eyed.

"I know. I'm sorry! Harry asked to keep this part quiet until we investigated a bit more or some shit. I just think he wants to be the one to announce it to everyone to make himself look productive as a boss. He's such a showoff. But anyway," I say, waving my hand between us to dismiss the excuse, "One of the killers leaves a mark with the victim. Sort of like his signature. A red piece of ribbon."

Angela looks at me with narrowed eyes. "Why? What does it mean?"

"I don't know," I say, "the killer does it in a very subtle way. It's always found hidden in a pocket or somewhere that's not visible." I stare out the window. "Maybe it means something, maybe it doesn't, but I know it's the same killer. It _has_ to be. And I'll find out, no matter how long it takes me."

Angela agrees with a shaky sigh. "It's just so scary…all of it. Like an endless nightmare."

At the word 'nightmare', I tense. I have to tell her about my recurring dream. With the loud noise flowing through the office I know I won't be heard.

_Coward. Just tell her already._

"Angela, I have to talk to you about something…"

Just as she looks up, Harry walks out of his office to make an announcement. It's his routine way of breaking news to us from a big case. You know it's serious when he buttons his tight brown suit jacket to make himself look presentable and stern. He doesn't know he looks comical with his shirt peaking from the gaps between the buttons. His rosy plump cheeks make him look far too charming to find him intimidating. The whole office stops what they're doing to listen. I take it as a sign and keep my mouth shut about the dream. It can wait.

_Definitely a coward._

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new story." Harry steps forward and stands beside a cubicle. The noise of computers, printers, faxes and footsteps fade with stifled interruptions of some clearing their throats or coughing. Chairs swivel to his direction.

"I need a team on location immediately. There's been a new crime scene discovered near Navy Pier last night. We think it's from the Red Ribbon killer." He looks at me and winks, letting me know he has approved my name for the nameless killer. I blush, because the name only slipped on a whim during one or our meetings.

"I need a partner to send with Bella to find out any information we can get from last night. We need witnesses, the victim's background, by standards, if any. We need further information on location—And now. I need anything that'll keep us in the lead. We aren't the number one newspaper in town for nothing. We have to move quickly."

With that, he turns my way and continues. "Thanks to her, we've found significant evidence, which gave us the nicknamed for killer. We'll be headlining the articles all through the state and parts of our neighbor states with this new nickname. Everyone will know of this case and we'll be the first to provide crucial information. Now," he entwines his hands against his chest as he pauses, "I need a partner to help her with this investigation."

Before Harry finished speaking, Mike raises his hand and fumbles to stand from his squeaky chair. In the process, he trips over it and kicks it, making it fall back behind him with a loud bang. "I'll do it!" he shouts a bit louder than necessary. Everyone stifles a laugh and Harry looks my way to get my approval.

I mouth '_No!'_ I know I'm completely screwed once Harry smirks at me and agrees to Mike's request. He hates me.

_Bloody shit._

I glare at Mike in complete disgust while he's smiling at me. Then he winks.

_Winks._

Rolling my eyes, I grab my stuff and snap my fingers at Mike indicating to follow me out the door. I'll definitely be setting ground rules for him before we leave the parking lot.

Forget the nightmare. Suddenly, green-eyes-who-wants-to-kill-me doesn't seem so bad right about now. Today, I need a savior from this catastrophe.


	3. Chapter 2: Friend

**I don't own Twilight.** I just own a Mini and my FF reading device—iPhone.

|:::::[-]:::i):::| —Tighten yours...reeeeeal tight.

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**Chapter two – Old friend**

"Mike, I'm telling you now. No bullshit. No joking around. No dirty talk. I will throw you out of my car in a second. Tuck and roll. Remember that, tuck and roll." I'm buckling my seat belt while Mike is settling himself in the passenger seat.

"So you'll throw me out of the car? How? It's so small I can't even fit my legs in right. Will you use the sunroof to eject me?" He's looking at me with an amused expression. I know he wants to laugh loud but he's being careful not to piss me off further. "Where's the button?" he asks while hitting every button on the dash.

"What button?" I ask while swatting at his nosy fingers, "Stop! And no touching either!" I'm already fuming and I haven't even shifted the car in drive.

"The eject button. Where is it? It has to be somewhere in this tiny, mini cooper."

"That doesn't make sense, Mike. Either it's tiny or mini. Pick one," I say while looking over the gas tank. I might have to make a stop to fill up.

"Whatever the hell it is, it's too small to get a lay in here," he looks at the back seats and investigates, "Where do you do it, on the roof? Oh wait you might fall in. That's not right."

I sigh.

"What happens when you sneeze with the windows up? Does the car explode?" he continues in fits of chuckles forming in his throat while he grabs his stomach.

"Mike!"

He's full on cracking up now and I look at a spot on his face that's asking me to punch it. I start up the car, feeling the rumble. I love every time it purrs.

"I love when you yell my name," he whispers settling down from his fit. He leans in close to my ear, "Say it again."

"Ok, get out," I say plainly and plant my hands on the steering wheel, "I'll tell Harry you're not up for the job and you won't be sent out again on a run."

"Ok, ok. Sorry. Go. Get this roach on the road," he finishes, sitting back and slaps his palms on his lap. He looks out the windshield.

I shift to 'drive' with narrowed eyes at him, but I know I've got him this time. "Why did you volunteer anyway? You looked so stupid begging like that."

"I wasn't begging. I was just wanted to make sure I got the job," he says with a smug look on his face, "I've been bored out of my mind sitting at that desk all fucking day. And most nights."

I almost feel bad when I look at him staring out the window. Mike isn't a journalist yet. He started working for the newspaper as an obituary writer. He moved up to writing some articles for page 10 on the paper. The official 'rookie' spot. Everyone skips over this section often. He knows it. Everyone knows it. He's been trying to get his foot in the door for a long time now.

"Don't worry, you'll get your break, Mike. You just have to be patient," I say with a pat on his knee, "You'll get promoted soon and you'll have your own gigs. No biggie."

Before I have a chance to remove my hand, he grabs it with his left and holds it there. He keeps his gaze out the window and doesn't say anything. I look at our hands and wince a bit. Touching Mike is never a good idea.

He runs circles over my fingers with his thumb and finally speaks after an awkward pause, "When do you think you'll decide to see me more than the annoying co-worker?" He looks back at me with a sad expression on his face.

Internal sigh.

This was a cycle. Every month Mike would ease into asking me out one way or another. First came the harassing. Then came the arguing. Then he'd become this obnoxious bastard who'd make my life a living hell. The dirty remarks would come next and then before I know it, he'd get serious and ask me out again. Like right now.

He really wanted us to work out somehow. I don't feel the same for him. I could never see us happening. I didn't feel it. I can't try to love him when deep inside me something is holding me back.

I had my share of relationships. Bad ones. (College was the fantastic years of my ups and downs.) One relationship lasted a couple of years after college, but nothing life-changing. I moved on, decided to just let it be, and go solo for a while. I mean, I could shave when I wanted—a huge plus. Yet, deep down, I had this small tugging inside that needed to be filled. And no one I've ever met filled it.

"Mike…please. Don't. I can't. You know, I just can't," I whisper shaking my head. I slowly look up at him as I plead, knowing I have to find the guts to tell him…again.

"Not once, Bella? Not one chance…ever?" He's looking at me with a pained expression. "Just let me in for once. If it doesn't work than…so be it," he finishes.

I sigh because he's making this difficult. I've never seen him so vulnerable. He squeezes my hand tighter.

If I say 'No', I'll probably make myself go through the same cycle next month. It'll all happen again. If I say "Yes'…well…what will happen if I say 'Yes'? Will he finally leave me alone?

I nod. "Ok." I can't say anything else because nothing comes out. His blue eyes strike me. They really do persuade. "Ok," I say again and look out the windshield. I must be convincing myself as I repeat.

I don't have to look at him to know a smile spreads over his face. "Thank you, Bella."

He squeezes my hand and to my relief, he lets go. "Ok…" he raises his hands in a show of relief and excitement, "So maybe we can have dinner at that nice Bristo by the water, catch a late night movie," he trails off to a pause. He clears his throat after a while and grins mischievously. "Maybe we can finish it off with a quick screw in the back of the tiny mini after? Should be fun. How's that?" he asks. "No?"

I narrow my eyes. "Are you kidding?"

"Absolutely," he answers nodding, "Last time I'll use it…promise."

"Oh. Well, that's a relief because I would've totally suggested you to bring your coffee mug." I wink and turn to speed off down the street. He laughs and I can't help but laugh too.

*

**

*

We get to Navy Pier and park at a small wedge between two cop cars. I look over at Mike and wink. He knows I'm flaunting the advantage of having a small car. He rolls his eyes and crawls out of the passenger seat muttering something about a roach.

The harbor's sidewalk is full of people in blue coats with bright yellow 'FBI' embroidered letters. They contrast the blue foggy sky and water. My heart speeds up and I brace myself, knowing this will be a tough sight. I've seen gruesome scenes. Others were unbearable to witness. Some corpses weren't found for a long time. The stench was beyond belief. The worst was finding a victim who was caught in a motorboat. I won't even try describing the details. I didn't sleep for a month after that one.

I look up at Mike beside me. He's a bit wide eyed, looking in all directions. He's not used to situations like this. I've seen quite a bit and I still get jittery. I don't blame him. I reach for his forearm and wait for him to look at me. "Mike, try to calm down. These Feds are harsh and will push us aside if we're not aggressive. Try and forget what really happened and just focus on questions and anything they'll say loud enough for us to hear. Keep your eyes open."

He sighs heavily as if he's been holding his breath. "Ok, ok. Be aggressive. Be, be aggressive," he sings to himself, while he flexes his fists and shoulders. "So why didn't we bring Ange or someone, are these hard times…to take photos?

"We can't. Harry doesn't agree with it. Other papers take shots but they use them for other purposes. It's too graphic for the readers. We'll just try to get an ID of the victim and find a picture of them to run in the article. We don't even announce it on the front page anymore. People are pretty shaken by this." I realize now I should've explained all this in the car. But thanks to him for making it awkward, I forgot. He doesn't know the steps to all this. I curse Harry under my breath for making me baby sit and hold Mike's hand…literally.

He nods. We reach the blue coats on the sidewalk. Directions and orders are being shouted from every angle. Ambulance sirens whine over the area, muting the noise machinery and trucks are making. I grab Mike's arm and push him between reporters that have invaded the closest spot on the sidewalk. The rest is closed off with yellow police tape. I shove my way around a tall woman with a cap on and camera equipment around her neck. She snaps shot after shot. She stops shooting when she feels me snake my way under her elbow. I can feel her glare behind my head. The only way to get anywhere is being rude and not sparing the feelings of others around you—plus, I'm short and have the advantage to fit through any space between people. "Excuse me!" she yells angrily behind me.

"You're excused," I say in a singsong voice and laugh when I hear 'bitch'. I hold on tighter to Mike's hand and pull as I push my way forward. "Stay close!" I glance back. I catch him apologizing to the woman. He winces and screws up his face when he grazes her boob while passing by. She pushes him away, making him land on my back as he stumbles.

"Get the fuck off me, asshole!" Mike makes a whimpering sound in a sort of embarrassing way. "I'm so sorry," he pleads, while reaching with his free hand and grabs her boob to check if she's ok. She's livid and lifts her camera to beat him over the head with it. He yelps, covering his head. He realizes what he's done and continues apologizing profusely.

"Mike, focus, dammit! Forget her."

After what seem like 10 feet of pushing reporters out of the way, dodging elbows to my ribs and ignoring nasty glares, I wedge myself beside a short bald man with a recorder in his hand. He's pointing it at a tall fed in a blue puffy coat. The whole way I've heard Mike apologizing to random people we've passed. I reach in my messenger bag and pull my recorder out to hand it to Mike. "Hold this close to the Fed while I grab my notebook."

I'm frantic at this point because I can sense this is a big one. The scene is chaotic and the environment around us is alive and rushed, proof that it's significant from the rest. I look out over the pier and see that a massive crane is lifting something out of the water. It's straining. The noise it makes indicates it's extremely heavy.

I turn my attention to the Fed after making sure Mike is in the right position. Questions are being shouted all around us. My toes are being stepped on. When I have a chance to free my foot, I kick blindly at whatever foot jammed my pinky. Worst part is feeling Mike's breath on the back of my neck. He's so nervous, its coming out almost in pants. This is worse than the toe massacre below.

"One question at a time," shouts the Fed over all the shouts directed at him. Someone behind us asks when it happened and at what time it was discovered. "We are lead to believe it happened just this early morning, about 4 or 5 o'clock in the morning."

I'm rolling my eyes because no one ever gets to the point fast enough. I lift myself on the tips of my toes to make a clear view of the Fed over the bald dude in front of me. "What's at the bottom of the pier?" I ask. Everyone quiets down and the Fed looks at me.

"Miss Swan, pleasure to see you here," he says with a smirk. I don't recognize him, but I'm not surprised he recognizes me. Everyone knows who Lieutenant Charlie is, and they know I'm his daughter. The news spread when I decided to follow this career. Charlie made sure to brag that his daughter is the leading journalist of the most read newspaper in the state. Like Paris Hilton, I'm a celebrity to the public by default—with no real reason and without the riches. The only difference between Paris and myself—people avoid me. I am the girl who puts all the dirt in the open. The girl who hangs everyone's laundry out to dry in public. My work is controversial. I don't exactly hold off on anything that might offend a person or two. Why ruin the fun? It's what people want to hear, whether they like it or not. "The men are working hard to lift a vehicle that sunk," the Fed answers.

"Is the victim still in there?" I ask impatiently after realizing he won't elaborate. They never do.

"We have this situation under control. I assure you that once we have further details, we will inform you. For now, let us do our work quietly and peacefully," he says with a condescending grin. I know he's definitely stalling.

"Well, sir, someone died this morning anything but quietly and peacefully. Don't come with your confidentiality bullshit, we'll find out sooner or later. Spare us wasted time figuring it out and answer the question. Is there a victim in there or not?" Mike jabs me with his elbow, mumbling something about driving off in the roach and leaving me in jail alone. I brush him off. To my surprise everyone around us agrees with the demand—some woot and holler at my rant.

He starts going red in the face and sighs heavily, "We are lead to believe…"

"That there is definitely a body in there. See? Not hard was it?" I interrupt him, finishing off his statement. "I think we are also lead to believe that this is connected with the serial murders earlier this year. Correct?"

He clears his throat looking uncomfortable. "Err…yes."

"Of course," I finish with a shit-eating grin. Before I can ask what exactly happened, the crane begins to lift the car out of the water inch by inch. Everyone's attention focuses on the scene unfolding in front of us. Cameras shoot from all angles. The crane begins to lift the car from its tail, setting the bottom on the edge of the railing as it inches back on its wheels.

"Hm, too bad, it's a Roll's Royce. What a waste," claims Mike from behind me. "It's all jacked up now."

"What is it with guys and cars? It's not the point, ok? There's, like, a person in there."

"Sorry," he mutters, "it's just a really expensive car. Not a lot of people own them. Dude must be rich…or was."

I roll my eyes before watching more intently. My mind can't help but start running, wondering what caused this and why? I begin thinking of all possibilities and which one in the group of killers was assigned this job.

They finally get the car completely on the ground and they begin to inspect the interior. This is the worst part. I don't really want to look. I scan the car trying to divert my eyes away from the inevitable discovery. The reporters around us are frantic, getting their shots and asking the Fed more questions.

Something was different at the back of the car. I don't know much about cars in general, but I know when there's something that doesn't quite belong. I see the usual branding for the car's identity and company name. When I look closely, there's one that isn't a brand I've seen before. The detailed circular crest I can't read from far away looks like it might've been added. "Mike, what's that in the back of the car, at the trunk?" I ask, pointing to it, "Is that part of the logo?"

"The Roll's Royce logo is the one with the double 'R's'," he says with a look like I should've known. "I don't know what that one is." He pauses to look closely. "It might have been added. Some companies do that to differentiate their cars and display a company's brand." He looks down at me with raised eyebrows.

"I underestimated you," I say, grinning up at him, "That was actual crucial information. Thanks." He rolls his eyes and looks away.

"Why do you want to know, Miss. Pretends-to-know-it-all-but-knows-absolutely-shit?"

"Well, you just answered my question. That, right there…" I whisper while pointing, "…is a brand we have to investigate. What it is? Where it comes from? Who owns the company? You know, facts, that sort of stuff." He furrows his brows in confusion.

I sigh raising my voice a bit out of frustration. "The damn brand will tell us who's it's from, who he works for and why they wanted to kill him." His eyes brighten up in understanding.

"That brand has to do with why that fuckawesome car was driven off into the water?" he asks, pointing at the scene in front of us.

"Wow, Mike. Like, how did you figure that out all on your own?" I ask with a blank expression on my face.

"Holy shit, this is exciting! This is better than 'gossip corner' at work. He's almost bouncing in place from the excitement. "So, what do we do next?"

I groan and roll my eyes before I continue walking towards the car. Besides making Mike pull out his cell phone to take a picture of the crest, nothing else needs to be done here. I have enough to set the rest of the day with work. Mike follows me, hovering around me asking me 20 questions, not really bothering to slowing down for answers. He fades to the background when I see a Fed walking close to us from behind the police line. His feet are heavy on the ground, dragging his heavy built frame around. My eyes instinctively drift to his boots. I instantly focus on red under his left boot. The bright color contrasts with the dark pavement and his dark boots. My eyes widen when the color triggers realization.

I stop to watch the red detach from the Fed's boot as he continues walking. It flitters through the wind like a feather, gently and weightless. The wind picks up, tossing it around. I'm worried it'll float away. I know what it is.

My complete focus is on the small red with invisible wings. I follow it with my eyes as it comes flittering my way. By capricious fate, it finally lands on my shoe. A ribbon.

I bend and pick it up quickly before it floats away. I'm in complete awe at what it is. I've never had the chance to touch one or hold one—specifically, this type of ribbon that belongs to a crime scene…this particular crime scene. Many were found, but this one found me. I stare at its soiled silky length and the perfectly pointed ends.

Mike is far ahead now and I hear him call me. I snap out of my daze. I run to him.

"Let's get the hell out of here," I whisper harshly when I pass him. We both jump in the car.

Why are we running?" he asks with wide eyes. I start the car. I drive off as quickly as I can without burning the wheels on the pavement—the ribbon still entwined between my fingers.

"I found one!" I shout in a shaky voice.

"What the hell did you find?" He's trying to figure out what I'm talking about. I take a huge breath.

"The ribbon! The killer's…it was there!" I say in a rush.

"The killer was there? _Where?!_" he shrieks, looking back behind us.

I take a breath trying to clear my throat, "I said it…_'it'_ was there! The red ribbon the killer leaves at some crime scene. I got it! I found it!" I lift my hand and show him the red ribbon twined in my fingers. He stares at it, his eyes widening even more.

"You have to give that back, Bella! It's evidence," he finally says.

"Aren't you a bit excited we have evidence? _Evidence, Mike! _I've wanted to touch one since I first found out. The Feds always keep them." I look out the windshield in wonder, "It's like…a dream. I finally got one." I sigh as I smile.

"You're sick, you know that? That's creepy. Why the hell would you want one? It's from a psycho killer who, like, kills people." He looks at me stunned.

"Uh, no shit. That's why we call them killers." I respond turning back to the road. "This is like the peak of my career right now. Like an accomplished goal. I've been following this guy for a year, Mike. A whole year. Imagine trying to find someone for so long and you finally get one glimpse of his identity—right in the palm of your hand. It's…incredible."

"You think you know him and you're glad you found this sick joke he leaves behind?" he pauses, "Lovely. She has officially lost every brain cell."

I sigh. "It was meant to be. It landed on my shoe. I saw it floating around…as if…it was trying to reach me." I look at the road in wonder. My fingers rub the silky satin ribbon folded between them. I can't help but imagine his fingers on it, cutting it carefully, making sure the angles on both edges are perfect so they won't tatter. I imagine him looking at it and for whatever his reason is for using it, he's content with the result—placing it in his pocket.

I feel his gaze on me, "You need therapy."

I nod. "I do."

*

**

*

The rest of the workday went by fast. Harry was excited about the news when I showed him the piece of evidence to keep for ourselves. I assured him to keep it safe by holding on to it. I was just being selfish by keep it…period. I don't think he'd mind since there wasn't much we could do with it. We couldn't announce finding it in my article or even use it as a graphic piece in the paper. The Feds would find me out.

I guess we came in with weird looks on our faces, especially Mike, because everyone kept asking what I did to him. I laughed because it figured, since I realized how much of a pansy he could be with these things. He looked like he went through a traumatic experience. I just rolled my eyes when he started retelling our experience to everyone he went up to and exaggerated a bit, making it look like it went down more dramatic than it really was. I just let him have his spotlight for not giving me trouble. I didn't really mind.

The next day we found out the victim was a government employee. This became controversy considering who he worked for. Everyone in the state talked about it despite it being sworn under secrecy by the FBI. It was too important to keep it under wraps. Eventually, the news trickled through every part of the nation into the living rooms of every household.

The death of the victim was done skillfully. They found the bullet that killed him lodged in the top of his head. The car was bullet proof from top to bottom—all the windows and even the tires. The Red Ribbon killer found a loophole…literally. It was a crisp morning and the victim apparently wanted a bit of fresh air. Opened his sunroof. Epic mistake.

I never heard anything about the crest I saw on the car that day. I'm sure the Feds probably found it and are investigating. They never fail to miss a detail. I know they won't reveal it and I won't stop searching for what it means. I have a deep feeling it's the key to this whole story.

It's Friday night and I'm out with the gang from work. Our happy hour turned into a long four hours. We're at the pub down the corner from work, it's our routine spot to crash every other week or when the mood is celebratory. The paper sold more this week than ever because of the story and everyone's efforts was congratulated. Harry was proud even though he never shows it. When things go this great he comes out of his office and yells at everyone to get back to work, as he inches his way out the door to leave early. Before the door closes behind him, we grab our stuff. We leave a couple minutes later and end up here.

"Mike, your arm," I snap harshly. He's buzzed after a couple of long Islands and he's leaning his whole body weight on my shoulders.

Angela and Ben are sitting with us, eyeing each other discreetly. One looks and the other turns away. They've been awkward with each other since last year's Christmas party. They both got shitfaced and ended up crashing in Angela's apartment. They don't know I was to blame for their awkward morning after. It was late and I was tired. I drove them there because I didn't want to make the trip downtown to drop Ben off at his place. She told me she sort of woke up in bed with him and couldn't remember if something happened between them. I felt bad until she told me it was a surprisingly pleasant morning. She even made him breakfast and let him shower. Who knew I was a matchmaker? Ben seems perfect for her anyway.

She just has to see past that and get over the shyness. At least they have each other. I just have a blonde mess hanging over my shoulders who just won't leave me alone. I sigh.

"I thought we were partners in crime, Bella. I, like, saved the day…and stuff," he slightly slurs. His breath is humming died squirrels and he's spitting the words out on my cheek. I wipe it off on a napkin with an outline of a bikini pin up hooker on it with her legs spread conveniently over the center. Men enjoy the mouth to crotch make believe friction. The owner of this pub? Just as perverted.

"Pointing out a car brand is not saving the day on Monday. Saving the day involves moving. You pretty much just sexually harassed a woman and almost peed your pants while standing there." Angela and Ben laugh loud as mike's brows touch in offense.

He ignores me and gets up to follow the waitress with a mini skirt and puffy boobs. She's waiting on the table packed with our other loud coworkers. He slams into her from behind making all the drinks on her serving tray drop all over the circle of gossip girls from lunch. I turn my head having had enough of his antics as I hear shrieks and commotion from behind me. As much as I try, I still can't help but laugh.

I turn to see Angela and Ben laughing when they turn to each other and they suddenly get all twinkly eyed. I'm so out of place here and as much as I'm happy for them, I'm not in the mood to see people in love. I sigh again for what seems like the 20th time tonight. Might as well leave them to finally get something done.

"Angela, I'm off. I'm beat," I say, breaking her eye contact with Ben. "I'll see you…tomorrow maybe? We can go do something?"

"Um, yeah. Well, I have something to do tomorrow night, but definitely during the day," she answers nodding. The quick glance she sends Ben's way doesn't escape me. I guess something did happen. I smile at her as I see the blush creeping up her neck.

"Finally," I mouth to her while throwing down a 20 on the table. I slip my jacket back on and slide out of the booth as fast as I can before Mike sees me. The tacky leather making squeaks as I move over it hardly doesn't help my discreet escape. By the time I'm at the door, I turn to wave at everyone, "Night, drunk bitches!" Mike looks up just as I walk out. I hear him call after me before glass and serving trays hit the floor—a couple of women scream in shock. I'm guessing he knocked a couple down. I laugh all the way to the car.

I jump in and turn on the engine. As a habit, I look around me to make sure everything is the way I left it, reassuring my paranoia being alone in a car at night. I shift to drive and head down the back road. The streets are usually lit very brightly but this one was missing a couple of streetlights. I look out the rearview mirror to see the darkness surrounding the street behind me, which makes the road lines disappear. I always had a fear of the dark when I was little. I remember Charlie would drive us down dark roads and I would look out the rear window to stare at the dark street and make sure monsters wouldn't run up behind the truck. I can't shake off the habit even now and once in a while, I look to make sure. I chuckle to myself remembering and turn the stereo on really loud for some company.

I look out the left side mirror for a second before I remember I never checked the side mirrors before I drove off—another habit I try to keep. I see that its fine but when I look over to the right, it's turned up almost all the way facing the sky. My brows furrow wondering how it got like that. I reach the button on my door to straighten it. I watch it slowly move to its place when I suddenly wince. A headlight is reflecting on it and it seems be close behind me.

I blink repeatedly and curse under my breath. "Dude, chill out with the high beams," I mumble to myself. I look up my rear view and notice it's a motorcycle. The music is loud and I was too distracted to notice he crept up behind me. The dark road is now lit brightly with the beam. I speed up to stay out of his way and come up to a main street with a convenient store and a gas station. I'm a bit relieved I'm out of the deserted road and away from the motorcycle.

I see the signs on the windows of the store and suddenly get a craving for junk food. I don't usually pig out, but its Friday night and I'll be home alone. Maybe I can rent a movie and relax for once.

I pull in and park by the side of the building. It's pretty deserted considering it's Friday night. Usually, there would be people driving in and out and teens walking around committing shenanigans.

I walk in and grab the stuff. The clerk looks a bit creepy under the fluorescents as he stares me down under his eyelashes. I feel his gaze on me through the whole store. When I was out of sight, I saw his gaze still fixed on me via the mirrors at the corners of the walls. I roll my eyes because It's not like I'm going to steal a bag of chips. I avoid his gaze while I'm paying for the stuff and walk out almost jogging, eager to get the hell out of there.

I walk to my car and unlock it. In my peripheral vision I notice a motorcycle parked beside my car. I know who it belongs to. Instantly my stomach aches with butterflies. I haven't seen it in a while, but just looking at it brings back all the memories. Memories I keep in the back of my mind, in a dark, webbed, corner. My guilt.

I look behind me to see if he's there. I know he's watching me.

"Nice ride."

I jump. My eyes cut back across my car to a figure standing by the shadows. There was no one just a second ago. I grip my keys in my other hand tensing up and I feel it sticking in my palm. The door swings open wider when I push it with my hip. I knew he'd appear but the anticipation threw me over. He walks out of the shadows and all I can see is that familiar smile with straight, white perfect teeth. "Jake."

He stands there looking at me calmly. My panic automatically eases. "It feels like it's been…forever, doesn't it?" he says. His smile turns to a grin.

"Shit, you scared me!" I ask while walking closer to the back of the car.

"Sorry. How are you?" he says walking towards me, eyeing me up and down. He always gets me with that one look. I grew up with him in Forks, Washington when I lived there with Charlie. I moved away with Charlie when I was 17. It was a very tough phase in my life. I went from knowing everyone to being completely alone in a new school. I didn't make new friends for many years after. I was a bit of a loner. I didn't want to leave my friends behind. Jake was one of them. He was part of the older group of kids in our neighborhood but he hung out with all the kids anyway. We were like brothers, sisters and cousins. Everyone got along perfectly. I knew Jake very well. Everyone knew they couldn't bother me because Jake had my back. He was a bit overprotective. We never really went out because we were always together anyway. Everyone knew we had a deep connection. I was devastated when I had to leave him. Not because he was my first love, but because we were attached by the hip. The move was hard but it wasn't tragic, since we never labeled ourselves as a couple.

He surprised me a few months ago when he showed up at my apartment after getting my address from Charlie. He had business in Chicago and moved here temporarily. I've heard rumors about how much he's changed after I left Forks. He got involved with the wrong crowd—a very exclusive one who gained power through narcotics and black market trading. I've heard they were very dangerous. I don't want to think that he changed like that. He had a way with women, Fork gossip said. After getting involved with Jake a couple of them disappeared. Men like him are untouchable.

I never wanted things to get out of control. But seeing him at my doorstep brought it all back. The masculine version of the boy he used to be, set me in a whirl. I was fixed. What Jake wants, Jake gets. And I am too weak to stop it. Part of me still has feelings for him. He was my first kiss…my first everything.

Everything about him had changed—everything, except for his smile. He was short and skinny then, but now he looks built and tall. His hair was long and reached his shoulders. Girls would braid his hair sitting on stoops at school at lunchtime. Some would fight just to get a turn. His hair is shorter now, making him look much older. Tonight he wears dark clothes and biker gloves that leave his fingers exposed. I've never seen him this serious. His tan gives him a bit of a warm glow, even in the shadows. He was always handsome.

From the moment he stepped across the threshold of my apartment door, I was bound to him. We picked up where we'd left off in Forks…without the innocence and with more intensity. He'd do things to me that fogged my brain into complete submission.

Many nights I felt like he'd take me to a place, where I'd be incoherent until he let me go. I'm not proud of what I become when I'm with him.

Anticipation is creeping up from my stomach every step he takes towards me.

"Good. Where have you been?" I ask holding a shaky breath.

"Ah, you know…around," he answers looking into my eyes. He pauses for a long moment and glares. "I've missed you."

I mistakenly exhale loudly. The corner of his mouth lifts. He can sense my nerves. I nod once. I have nothing to say.

"Have you missed me?" he asks. He finally stops in front of me. His boot hits my shoe with a light tap. No space between us.

I can't reply. He's leaning his face towards me, ghosting his lips on my jaw. I can't focus.

He chuckles lightly. "You've missed me." He's knows. I've given him every sign that I haven't forgotten him. I can't. I've never told anyone about us. Not even Angela. I can't find a way to confess my biggest guilty pleasure—a guilt that turns to shame and confusion.

Another betraying breath escapes my lips. He's lips are wet on my skin as he graces them down to my neck. His hands cover mine that are now limp at my sides. He does me the favor of lifting them and placing them on his chest. The cotton is soft under my fingertips but the hard lines under the fabric are proof of how much he's changed. He keeps his hold on my hands and swipes my palms over his torso. The tips of my fingers bob faintly as they feather his nipples. His lips find mine.

I taste his tongue as he lowers my hands to the hem of his shirt, guiding them under it, and instantly I feel warmth. On their own accord, my hands graze his naked skin. I'm lost again.

I forget where we are and if I'm even still standing. I forget everything around me.

My gasp is louder than the sounds of the night when I feel his bare hand cup my center.

"Bella," he whispers in my mouth, "I've missed this." His fingers find my heat. My head falls back. I let him…I let him do what he's always done to me. Resigning. Everything. No stopping. My knees turn weak.

He carries me the few feet to his bike and sits me down—his hand never leaving me. I grip his chest as I'm settled. I don't have the strength or mind to laugh at the irony of this. I can't help but remember his pride and joy on wheels back in Forks. He always tried to convince me to ride on his motorbike at the beach in La Push. I was too scared and never gave in. _How is this happening?_

Without even a few words he's here and I'm lost again…in the middle of nowhere…at night. The motions of his hand only let me go so far as to feel shame for mere seconds before I let him kiss me again.

I'm panting and writhing. I feel the night breeze cool the sweat building on my forehead. He never looses rhythm as I hear a car far behind him shrieking its wheels to a stop. I break the kiss and look over his shoulder and see a black van. No one moves in it. It just sits there with smoke coming out of the exhaust at the back. My heart speeds up at the sound or at the feelings bubbling inside me. I can't tell which. He moves to taste my neck. He never looks up to investigate the noise. He's stopped kissing me and he's looking straight into my eyes.

His fingers slip inside me and I moan loudly. It's the only thing distracting the silence between us. My stomach tightens. I feel his flex from under my palms. He doesn't look away. I moaning non-stop for a long delicious moment and lean my head on his shoulder after I find release.

My eyes drift to the van and shame begins to creep in again as I ride out the wave. I slide my hands over his warm soft skin contrasting his hard lines, over his pecks. My breath is damping his jacket. I grip him desperately. Something grabs my attention. I focus fully. The logo on the side of the van looks like an exact replica of the crest Mike and I saw on the Roll's Royce on Monday. My heart beats quicker.

The van behind him rams the gas pedal multiple times, yet it doesn't move. I look at it and back at Jake's face. "What's wrong, Bella?" He asks in a way that makes the hairs in the back of my neck perk up. I'm frozen in place.

The van keeps hitting the gas. "They can see us," I lift a hand to my face, trying to rub off the fog in my brain. I'm scared. I don't know what the crest is or what it means. But it can't be good if it's the same crest found at bottom of the pier on the trunk of a car with a dead driver in it. "Jake, stop." I grab his arm and slip his hand out. The van roars, chilling my skin in goose bumps.

"You always did want to ride in my bike, remember?" I hear him say and I look up. He brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them.

"You _wanted _me to. I didn't," I respond a bit confused as to why he would bring that up now.

He's towering over me now.

"Let's leave. I don't want to be here. The van is making me nervous," I lie. I'm in complete fear.

"No," he says.

"What...Why?" I glance at the van and back at him. "Stop playing. Let's go home, please." I push him away by his chest and start climbing off the bike. He stops me and slams me back down.

"You never did listen, did you? Always so stubborn," he says in a menacing voice. He grabs my upper arms tightly and moves me off the bike. His grip is so tight I can't even lift my forearms.

"What are you doing?" I look at him wide eyed. My heart is pounding.

"Sh. Sh. Shhhh," he replies. It sounds disturbing. The blood drains from my neck down to my toes. I feel my lips pale up and my throat goes dry.

"_Jake, stop!"_ I shriek when he lifts me off the ground. Like a rag doll, he presses me to his body and walks toward the van down the parking lot.

"_Jake,_ _Let go of me!"_ I shout. I'm kicking his shins and thighs hard. He doesn't even flinch. He's completely calm as he strolls farther away from his bike and my car. _What's happening?_ Tears sting my eyes. I feel them coming down in thick streaks. "Where are you taking me?_"_ I ask in sobs. He doesn't say anything, just keeps walking in long strides. "What's wrong, Jake? Why are you acting like this?"

My efforts in trying to pry myself off of him come down to nothing. I'm only hurting myself. Nothing I do seems to hurt him. He's built like steal.

"_Jake…I'm scared_," I whisper in his ear. I'm sobbing. My chest shakes between us. I can feel his heart beating through the jacket. It's pumping normally. I can't understand how he can be so calm. I can't think of anything else but his calm thumping heart. He's changed and I don't know who did this to him or what made him this way. I can't help but hold on to that faint hope that tells me he would never hurt me. But I am terrified. And he won't stop.

"Please. What's wrong?" I plead. Our cheeks rub against each other as he walks. The same cheek I kissed and felt warm in my hands. He doesn't respond.

In defeat, I rest my mouth on his shoulder. I watch the ground behind him pass by from under me. Specks in the pavement in multiple colors form blurred lines. I cry harder than the day I had to leave him behind in Forks—harder than I've ever needed to cry in my life. But his heart is calm.

I hear the van accelerating behind me. I begin to kick again and my sobs turn to angry grunts. I try to move my lower body furiously to tire him and hope I'll slip off his grip. Nothing. He grips me harder.

"_STOP IT!" _I scream. Someone has to hear me. _"HELP! HELP ME!" _I make sure I'm screaming in his ear on purpose—something, anything to distract him. He doesn't even wince.

I'm furious. I know we're almost by the van. I look around me and see no one. I turn my head toward him and my mouth bumps on his ear. Perfect height.

I bite down hard. He yelps and pulls away. _Finally, he reacts. _I bite down harder when he tries to pull away. I feel the soft tendons in the back of his ear shell cave under my teeth. I taste his warm blood in my mouth. If I bite it off I couldn't care less.

He growls and grips my arms and spine harder. It hurts, but I don't let go. Suddenly, we both stop struggling. I hear loud, sharp pops from all around us. Gun shots.

I let go of his ear and look around me frantically. Fear numbs my body. I stiffen and coward into his shoulder. An explosion erupts from behind me. It's the van.

Jake is blown off his feet, like in slow-motion. I can feel his grip loosen as I'm being pulled with him through the air. The paved cement gets closer and closer—the blurred lines going by faster in the opposite direction. My body prepares for the inevitable blow. I brace myself.

With a loud thud, I'm on the ground with Jake under me. I open my eyes and look down at him. He's knocked out cold. I lift myself up. The van engulfed in flames, lighting up the road in an orange glow. Pieces of melted debris are falling off the windows and doors. Never in my life have I seen what's in front of me—only in movies. I don't know who was in there, but I'm sure they didn't survive.

I run back to my car, finding the keys on the ground by the door where I dropped them. I get in and with shaky hands I attempt to start the car. They're shaking too much. I have to stop and rub them for a few seconds. I'm looking around. I spot Jake still lying on the ground and know I still have time.

I try to start the car again and I finally manage, ramming the car in reverse to speed out of the lot. I don't see anyone. I turn down the dark road and leave everything behind. I leave _my_ Jake behind…the one I once loved…the one who'd promised never to hurt me. I've never driven so fast in my life.

This must be another nightmare. I wish with all my might that it was. For the first time since the nightmares began to haunt me, I want this moment to be one of them. But my sobs won't wake me.

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**A/N:** I'm...*sigh* I'm Team Switzerland right now. I had to and my horny amazing friends (who I love to pieces) made me write an alternative ending. All with purpose, I promise. Sorry for the delay. Lots of decisions to be made. Just for you.


	4. Chapter 3: Betrayal

**A/N** Hope you all had happy holidays!

I know...a month. :-/ I'll try not to let it be this late. I loose connection reading other ff's when this happens too. I get it. Had a Birthday and I'm officially scurrying to get life goals done before the big three zero next year. I'm like this O.O Is there a remedy?

I'm posting now (as opposed to at night) because I woke up this morning and decided I should probably give going to work a go. Standing under the pouring snow, cold and wet from a truck splashing dirty slush on my face passing by, I asked myself: whytf? I walked back home bawling, as I saw the bus I was waiting for for an hour pass me by. Sigh. Not my day. Maybe this will make yours. *crossing fingers* Thanks.

**I don't own Twilight.** I just own a Mini and my FF reading device—iPhone.

|:::::[-]:::i):::| —Tighten yours...with a double loop.

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* _Sound: Imogen Heap-The Moment I Said It._

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**Chapter 3 – Betrayal**

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

My hand hurts but I won't stop. The frenzy and shock still flowing though my body is the only thing keeping me standing. My mind still sees the flames and echoes the sounds of the loud pops. Besides the ache in my hand, I can't feel anything. I'm blinded by the movie scene I left behind.

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

I focused on a wood grain in front of me. The curved lines going up above the reach of my vision. Gold, brown, beige, oak illuminated in an orange glow from the porch light that flickered on when I ran up the cement steps.

I whimper and my knees buckle slightly. I lean against the grains to keep me from giving up. My tears have soaked down my jacket and shirt. My aching hand reflects light. It's the moisture from wiping away the tears. Tears that blinded me and made me trip and fall on the grass by the driveway.

_BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!_

"Ange," I manage to muster. A sob tightens my chest again.

Nothing. I can't hear any sounds coming from inside.

Without thinking I made turns and turns until I led myself here. I didn't know where else to go. And she's not here.

I let my legs buckle until I'm sliding to the ground. I try breathing steady, controlling my hysteria. The only thing I hear is night creatures singing their song at the cold wind. They go about their existence while mine has whirled into a nightmare. No one is here.

I'm hugging my knees tightly and lean my head on the door to Angela's apartment. I should've known she wouldn't be here yet. But my mind is full of with visions of flames and Jake's face.

_What happened?_

The porch light goes out, indicating my long unexpected stay. I don't know how long I've been sitting here but I'm beginning to freeze. Clouds puff out of my mouth as my heart races. I look around me frantically one more time before slouching against the door again. I'll wait—as long as it takes.

In a couple of hours, I've become a person who's too terrified to even move away from a door sill, much less run to her car and find her phone. My heart had dropped when I realized I had left it behind. A headache is starting up, shooting sharply over my eyes. I close them, feeling them heavy for just a second. I snap them open again, scanning my surroundings. Nothing. My heart eases slightly.

Minutes or hours have passed. I can't tell which. I've stayed in the dark where no one can find me, in case somebody is following me. If they're still alive. My mind runs the whole scene over and over again in detail. I can still feel the heat from the flames. I can still feel Jake's warm skin.

_Why did he do this?_ I'm shamed at even letting him near me. I squirm at the memory of his touch and I fist my hand over my mouth. I inhale deeply, trying to calm myself down as my eyes drift closed. I need to sleep. The pounding in my head is so bad. Hours and hours…and no one is here. I'll wait as long as it takes.

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Cold fingers wrap around my arm. I gasp and my eyes snap open. I sit up and scream, swinging my arms around in defense. 15 is my new record to add to my recurring dream. The shadow has a face now —Jake's. I focus on nothing and scream, hoping my fist will collide with his face.

"_BELLA! Bella, calm down!" _Cold fingers shake my shoulders.

I focus on the voice and cut my eyes to Angela. She's here. I'm not alone. I stop fighting her. My eyes are dry but aching to fill up with tears again.

"What's wrong, hunny?" She sounds scared. As sob chokes me as I wrap my arms around her neck, crying on her shoulder. "Shhh, it's ok," she coos as I feel her arms rubbing my back. We stay like this for a moment. I can't speak and I'm grateful she just hugs back.

"How did you get in here? You scared me when I found you," she asks, pushing me away from my death grip to look into my face. I finally focus on my surroundings wondering where she found me. I furrow my eyebrows. I'm in her living room, laying on her couch—intact. _How did I get in here?_

"Did you find the key I stashed in the porch light fixture?" She sighs, looking at my expression in worry.

"I…I don't…" I answer in a whimper looking back at her. My voice is intensely horsed. Evidence that last night wasn't a dream. "Oh my god, Ange. Oh my god."

"You're scaring me," she says wrapping her hands around my wrists to steady me.

I breathe deeply trying to steady my heart. "You wouldn't believe…you wouldn't believe what happened." I shake my head. "I'm so scared."

She stands from kneeling on the floor in front of me and pulls my legs off the couch to sit beside me. I feel her wrap her arms around me. "Tell me. What happened? _You're _scaring _me! _I find you here asleep. I don't understand."

"Jake grabbed me and tried pushing me into a van," I scrabble to say.

"Who's Jake?" she asks. Her eyes widen.

"I heard shots and the van exploded. Jake held me down to take me," I say bringing my fingers to my mouth, fidgeting from the nerves. I continue rambling details I remember.

"Slow down. What are you talking about?" she asks pulling away from me and grabbing my shoulders again.

I sigh heavily and take big gulps of air to try and calm down. "Ok, ok," I say in assurance. For myself more than for her.

"I never told you about Jake," I say turning to look into her eyes. "Angela, I'm so stupid." I pause. A sob escapes my throat.

"Breathe. I need for you to calm down, so you can talk to me," she says. I'm hiccupping. "Let me go get some water." She stands to leave and I grab her arm instinctively, not wanting to be alone. "It's ok, I'll be back in a second," she assures me while pushing my arms back down. She furrows her eyebrows when she sees my desperation. I nod and settle my arms on my lap.

She comes back with a glass of water and a damp washcloth. She hands me two pills after dropping the cloth on her lap as she sits again. "Here, take these. It'll help you calm down." I'm still crying. My chest hurts from convulsing so much. I swallow the pills with effort, feeling my throat closed up.

"Ok, now you're going to talk to me…from the beginning," she says firmly and determined. She brings the warm cloth to my face and wipes away my tears. I close my eyes feel relief and calm surging. The ache is soothing a bit. I sigh.

I begin telling her how I know Jake. How he found me again after many years, showing up at my doorstep. She sits back listening intently, as she occasionally rubs my arms when I can't help but pause and cry again. Then anger takes over as I remember when he was kind and protective and how he was acting completely opposite last night. I told her he was my first love. That he came back and it was as if we never parted. But it was intense. It was like I was meeting a stranger but I knew his face, his touch, his voice. He was mysterious yet, I knew his past. I gravitated to him. I skipped the part when he approached me at the parking lot. I'm too ashamed, too angry to tell her. But when I explained how he snapped and grabbed me, she looked shaken.

"Why did he do it?" I felt as though I was reliving it. My hands started to shake. "He was forcing me into a van with the same crest Mike and I found on that car in the harbor. It has to mean something, Ange. Has to."

"How did you get away?" she asked after a long pause.

"Some gun shots…I don't know." A sob constricts my chest as I remember the fear at that moment. "I heard shots and it blew up the van and sent us flying through the air. I got away because Jake was out and I didn't see anyone." I finish, looking at her horrified expression.

"Oh my God, Bella. You have to call the cops! Why didn't you call the police?!"

"I don't…." I trail off with my hand over my mouth. I continue to sob loudly and rock myself on the couch.

I faintly hear Angela freaking out as she rambles on to herself. She's aimlessly pacing her living room and looking for something. She looks determined as she reaches for her phone cradled on her side table.

"No! You can't tell anyone!" A pang of horror is hitting me. In a flash I leap across the couch and grab her wrist.

"You can't! I don't think this is something the cops can fix. Please," I plead.

"Bella! This is insane. How can you not do something? They were going to take you!"

I nod. "Don't you think I know that?! There's something really off about this. It's Jake, Angela. It wasn't a stranger or… or… a criminal on the loose or something. It was Jake. I know Jake," I say looking in her eyes. "Why would he do this? Why would he hurt me like this?" She's stares and sighs in defeat. She knows I'm right.

"You have to do _something, _Bella. You can't just sit here," she pleads in a whisper. I slouch down on the couch again and stare off in a daze. I don't know what to do. I have a deep feeling this is major and just the thought sends shivers of fear through my body. The same feeling I get when I wake up from my nightmares. I inhale deeply and look up at Angela. "I'll talk to Charlie. He'll know what to do. He has to."

"Ok." She nods settling the phone back in the cradle. "Ok," she says, assuring herself too. She's staring around her living room in a daze, looking as scared as I imagine I must look. She freezes after a second and bolts to the door, opening it and disappearing outside. I hear her rummaging through something and she quickly appears at the door again with a key in her palm. The metal catching a beam of sun making it gleam. Her eyes cut to mine in confusion. "Bella, you never answered my question." She walks across the threshold. Her dark glasses suddenly making her eyes look darker and haunted. "How did you get in?"

A cold breeze passes by her making her shirt and hair ruffle. My skin prickles…but not because of the cold. I begin shaking my head slightly. "I don't know."

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I hear a bing on my pone. I've got a new voicemail. My ears have only been filled with sounds or electronics for the past 2 weeks. Nothing but the sounds of my phone, a murmuring TV and my breathing. Silence.

Since I woke up in Angela's couch, I haven't set a foot outside of that door. I can't sleep, eat or focus long enough to tell the difference between lying down or standing in front of the bathroom mirror staring at my reflection. I will never leave this place. Here, where the comforter with 275 stripes in 3 patterned shades of orange shields my face. My cocoon. My safety blanket.

I haven't been to work or spoken to anyone except Angela. Part of me feels guilty for only responding with 'yes' or 'no' answers to her questions. I don't know how a duffle bag appeared beside the bed with my clothes in it. I haven't touched it. No need to. I'm not ready yet. I stopped listening to voicemails from Mike, Harry or even Charlie. I can't find it in me to stop replaying the nightmare that happened with Jake.

Jake. The name brings up bile up my throat, making my taste buds burn. Dry heaving is all it takes for another headache to erupt.

I've become a fearful, weak, pale being with no intentions of facing the exit to this room to find answers or justice. I'm too afraid to face the demons scratching at the door, tormenting me day and night. I won't leave. I can't find the strength.

Shadows turn into faces and sunlight into irritation. The urge to crawl under the bed is contrary to a child's fear of monsters under it, waiting to take them away. I want to cower deep, where the monsters won't find me. But Angela doesn't let me. I wake up screaming and she's there—pulling me away from the repetitive nightmares. I've lost count after 21.

The first week, a doctor came to see me. I can't remember his name. I faintly remember Angela's confused expression when she let him in. He said Harry had sent him over. Since when do doctors make house visits? I'm not sure. But Harry had been worried. So much so, he sent him to check up on me. He gave me sedative shots to calm my nerves. He smiled warmly and the scar on his cheek wrinkled. I don't remember much but being a mess. I couldn't stop shaking for hours with sweat soaking through my clothes. I went into complete shock.

The sedatives sent me into a blackened dream. I don't remember anything past that. When I awoke everything came rushing back and Angela quickly gave me pills prescribed to me. They helped keep the hysteria from escalating.

Harry only knew what Angela told him. He knew I was seriously sick and needed time away from work. He didn't ask further questions knowing Charlie would fix things. He doesn't know I haven't spoken to him. Charlie will flip out. I need time to gain the guts to tell him.

I don't know what his reaction will be. He loved Jake. How will he react when I tell him his best friend's son tried to kidnap me? I just don't know.

I hear movement from outside of the room and I sit up quickly, tensing up. On its own accord, my hand slips under my pillow and grips the knife I keep there. I hear Angela's quick call from the front of the house and I instantly ease my muscles. She does so to assure me it's her. I breathe and let go, lying back down on my pillow. She doesn't know the biggest knife she owns is missing from her kitchen drawer.

Within seconds I hear her soft knock on my door. I don't know why she knocks when it's her apartment. It guilts me even more.

"Bella," she calls after opening the door a slit. "You ok?"

"Yeah." I stir as a show that she has my full attention. She walks in and sits on the bed beside me.

"Did you take your pill?" She brushes a hand over my forehead and hair that hasn't seen a shower in days. I nod.

"Good. Are you hungry? I bought pasta and Alfredo sauce—your favorite. Do you want some?" she asks with lines furrowing her forehead. Since I've met her, I have never seen those lines permanently etched on her until now. I shrug.

She sighs and smiles a bit. She stands up and walks towards the door again where she stops. I know it's coming.

"Bella, you have to talk to Charlie. This can't go on like this. I can hardly go out. I worry."

"I know. I will tomorrow," I respond surprising myself and her. I know she's right. I can't do this to her anymore. Those lines have to go away. Those lines are my only push to move. She nods and smiles again in relief.

"Good. Now, come on, sit in the kitchen with me," she asks fidgeting with her fingers. I always decline.

"Ok," is all I reply. But deep down I'm wondering how my legs will move to do so. She slips out with an excited skip to her step, as I have accepted her invitation.

I turn to look at the ceiling for a second wondering if I should leave the knife behind. _There's more in the kitchen._ With a heavy sigh I flip the comforter off of me and force my legs to move.

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My hand is on the door handle, slightly shaking. I'm staring at the house that hasn't changed since the day I moved out of it. I watch the leaves rustling on branches, shadowing windows and the front yard. He's home. It's Sunday and he usually reads the paper at the kitchen nook with coffee nearby. I can almost see the sunlight coming in through the kitchen window, setting a warm glow that sooths. I wish I was little again. Everything was simple then.

"I'll stay in the car, ok?" Angela breaks my thoughts and I nod. As promised, I am here fulfilling my visit with Charlie. To talk. How do I begin?

"Just start from the beginning, like you did with me. You'll be fine," she answers my question. She's grown very perceptive lately. She knows exactly what I'm thinking. I nod again and turn the handle.

I walk to the door and find myself staring at grains again and lift my hand to knock. It was my sanctuary once and now I have to ask permission to enter it. The door swings open and I look at familiar brown I begin to cry before I even step into the house.

His arms envelope me and I wonder why it took me so long. He always tears away all of my fears with one embrace.

Next thing I know I'm sitting at my old couch and staring down at ripples in a coffee mug. He always makes it too strong. But I'll need every help I can get.

I look up at his worried expression. He sits by me with his arm cradling my shoulder. He looks tired and the years of nonstop stressful work has begun to finally show on his sideburns and mustache. Grays mix in contrast with the black speckled hair. He still keeps a tan from long hours on the road. The hurt and loneliness when mom died still show in the slight crow's feet on his eyes. He's kept his appearance though. He still dresses in designer brands: suits, slacks and even shoes. He takes his job seriously. If no one knew his past, they would think him happy. But I know better. The blue cashmere he's wearing over a buttoned up shirt and black slacks is proof that he never takes a day off.

"Dad, Jake is in Chicago." I look up at his blank expression.

"He is?" he asks after a moment, almost hesitantly. I nod. "Is this about him?"

"Yes. Um…" I scramble for words, furrowing my brows. There's no easy way to say it. "Something's really wrong. He tried to kidnap me," I whisper. There's silence for what seems like hours. I snap my head to look at him. _He laughs._

"Kidnap?" he asks after a moment, shaking his head. A smile lingering on his lips.

"Yes," I respond. My shoulders drop at his reaction. "He followed me to Wells Street gas station and tried to push me into a van." I'm looking at his eyes, waiting for the smile to wipe off his face.

"A van?" he asks and stares off behind me. "In Wells Street?"

"Yup, same place," I confirm sharply. I imagine he knows about it. Something like that wouldn't skip the news. He's the lieutenant and is aware of all movement in Chicago.

He clears his throat and shifts on the couch next to me. He looks uncomfortable. This isn't the reaction I was expecting.

"Bella, honey, what van in Wells street?" he asks looking into my eyes again.

"What do you mean? Didn't your guys call it in?" I ask.

He shakes his head confused. "We haven't gotten any reports from Wells."

"You couldn't have missed it, Dad. It was a burning van in the middle of the street," I say, raising my voice.

"We haven't seen anything, Bells," he answers, shaking his head. I stare at him in disbelief. He shrugs and spreads his palms, facing up in question. He grins, searching my eyes. "When did you see that?"

"Friday night, two weeks ago! Jake tried to kidnap me!" I yell. I feel my chest constricting and my heart beat picks up. _How did he not know about the wreck?_

"What are you talking about, Bella? Jake would never do that. Why would he want to _kidnap_ you? That's absurd" he's looking at me as if I have two heads.

I'm seething. Something clicked in me and all the weight of the whole past 2 weeks comes up. I practically shouted the whole story to him. Midway through, I stand to pace, my tears flowing and soaking my shirt. He sits frozen, following me with his eyes.

"I don't know why he'd want to kidnap me. That's what I need to figure out!" I stand by the window. I'm staring out at the leaves still rustling, un-interrupted. "I'm scared."

"I don't know what to say. This is insane," he says. I snap my head towards him and glare.

"_This _is insane? Or _I'm _insane?" I ask narrowing my eyes.

"I wasn't saying that! I'm just saying…We never got any reports. I just don't get it. Bella, were you drinking that night? Is something wrong with you?" he asks.

Unbelievable. Every hope I was tightly holding on to is dissipating. I stand here staring at his confused expression and all the life in me has drained. I turn back to the window and see Angela sitting in the car. She's looking my way. I don't remember Angela ever mentioning seeing anything on the news. Was he right? Was I dreaming again? Was I really going insane?

But if I did dream it, why did I wake up in Angela's couch? Why did I have bruises from Jakes tight hold on me? Why did I feel his touch, the fear, the panic, crawling all over my body every second of the day. It _had_ to be real.

I grab my coat off the couch. I need to get out. He grabs my wrist quickly to make me stay. "Let go of me," I snap, looking in his eyes. His eyes widen in shock and he let's go.

"I came here seeking your help. If you refuse to help me and sit there telling me _I'm_ insane, I will walk away knowing you've lost my trust. I'll deal with this on my own. Just like I learned to deal with things without mom." I pause seeing his face grow pale. "What would she think right now?"

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I'm standing in a store, waiting for Angela to buy orange shoes she went gaga over at first glance. She insisted I come with her, taking advantage of my new found bravery. Yesterday was a disaster. Just thinking about my own father mocking me and understanding my problem with less interest than he does with his fucking floss, or god knows what, makes bile rise up my stomach. Why didn't he believe me? I ran out of the house never feeling so alone in my life. I want Renee. I want my mother.

My eyes well up instantly. I cried all last night but I'm fighting to hold them back now. I have to try hard not to upset Ange on her ground breaking day. That ground breaking is me, yet I feel like its burying me.

It doesn't stop me from looking over my shoulder: left, right…all angles for the unexpected. I jump and cower away from anyone wearing black or tall or…breathing. Everyone is dangerous. I screamed bloody death at one point when a man, the same build as Jake, bumped into me. Poor man felt horrible as he apologized and tugged on a 5 year old he was lugging behind.

It's no one's fault. Yet, everyone _is_ at fault. I can only see his face.

I grip the knife in my coat pocket tightly as a group of people walk by in a rush. Angela sees my reluctance and grabs my arm.

"You ok?" she asks for the fiftieth time today.

"Can you just stop asking me, please? It's getting old," I snap. Her face falls in hurt and she looks away without responding.

I sigh. The only person who's been willing to deal with my drama with patience…with complete devotion. Angela. And I'm being a complete bitch to her. "I'm sorry. I didn't…" I pause, finding the words, rubbing my face. "You've been great. Thank you so much, Ange. If I wasn't so distracted with my damn problems I would see how perfect you have been. Please forgive me?"

"You're all I've got. Why wouldn't I?" she asks with a sheepish grin. And she's all I've got.

I nod and hug her. Some of the weight from these couple of weeks lifting a bit off of our shoulders. Not all of it, though. It still lingers over us as we sigh.

I look past her shoulder at the crowd moving quickly pass us. Past the racks, jewelry stands and blurred colors in motion, the crowd parts. A shiver runs up my spine. Darkened eyes look straight into mine.

I blink. The crowd shifts. They're gone.

I lift my chin off Angela's shoulder and straighten to look around me. Angela feels me go rigid and lets go. The crowd shift again to the far right. Different eyes.

I flinch as I feel my skin rip. My hand jammed in to my pocket, searching for my metal piece of courage. The sharp edge betrayed me and digs deeper into the coat's lining. I can't pull it away from strands of fabric that are now soaked in my fresh blood.

A whimper escapes my throat and my legs grow limp.

"They're here," I whisper to Angela. She starts pushing me farther down an aisle, into an ocean of clothes on racks. She knows now. I can tell from her shaking hands on my back. But she pushes on, never faltering in strength. I grab on to racks as we pass to keep from falling. Blood soaking fine fabrics, granting my touch a soft contrast.

A different pair of eyes finds mine. They're _everywhere._

Pop after pop of gun fire terrifies the crowd. There are screams from every angle. Thundering sounds of feet hitting the floor frantic to find the nearest escape. Products fly off counters and shatter to the ground. People are falling, one on top of another. A stampede rams into Angela and sends her stumbling away from me. Her hand is yanked from my grasp. She screams my name.

I fall to the ground.

Adrenaline runs through my veins. I shift to my knees and crawl towards where Angela was taken from me. My instinct is to find her and protect her. This isn't about her. They want me.

_They want me._

I stop. If they take me, they won't take her.

"Ok_…_ok_." _I assure myself. I'll spare her from this catastrophe. I have to endure this on my own. The dread and fear of knowing I might die on this dirty carpet. Somehow, somewhere, I had to find the courage to stay here…alone.

The shots are getting closer. Through the carpet I feel the crowd shifting direction. The herd is coming my way. They run me over me in blind panic. I'm trying to get out of their way to avoid being crushed. A sharp pain stabs my right rib. I scream and drop. My body is pressed to the ground. Courage is sliding deep into my flesh from inside my pocket. I scream in silence, my eyes wide, leaking thick tears.

Multiple boots shuffle in a battle several feet away from me. I can't see them. I can't run. I can't fight. I can only see black, as my eyes close as I drift away.

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A/N: **'heart' for your reviews. Let me know if this was a Yay, nay, or _what the_ _hay_? I'll actually reply this time, I swear. Greatly appreciated. Keeps me going. Next chapter: 'The Meet', if you know what I mean. Sorry for the torture. Even my Beta was all wtf? Just had to do things a certain way. Thank you for reading…really.


	5. Chapter 4: Reason

**A/N **Hi! Hope you're all still with me. *breathes* Great Valentine gifts for us from Eclipse/Details/Remeber me, huh? Rob's chest: Holy pecks and chest hairs! I'm in love again. Food for FF visuals, I tell ya. God, he looks good. Can't blame her for taking a peak. And Domward incarnate on Details...?! I was all O.O then I was all *drool* then I was all... GAH! [crazy smiley inserted here] then I was all *depressed* cuz wanted it to be me. I'd get bare for him any day...even if he hates kitties. *eyes roll to back of head* So pimp.

Ok, not the point. Point is I'm going to have a nervous breakdown writing this FF. _It's hard!_ I had to cut the chaps shorter because I will grow gray early and my Beta will strangle me. This was a chap that I turned into two...it was _that_ long. Short ones from now on—or longer span of time in between chaps. :-/ Please don't hate me. I'm trying really hard.

**I don't own Twilight.** I just own a Mini and my FF reading device—iPhone.

|:::::[-]:::i):::| —Tighten yours...comfortably.

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**Chapter 4 – Reason**

The weight of lead sits over my chest. I can't feel anything but the weight constricting my lungs. I whimper as the bit of strength I have in me leaves my throat. I want to scream at the murmuring voices to lift the weight off of me but my plea doesn't go any farther. My eyelids are illuminated in a fiery red glowing light. They're too heavy to open.

Someone calls but it's far away and unclear. Again and again, voices echo deep in my mind like endless white noise.

Metal clanks together, sending sharp pain through my teeth. My mouth tastes bitter. The pressure deepens on my chest. Rustling paper and a constant beep fills the voids when the echoing voices fade in and out.

"She's very lucky," announces a voice above all the rest. I tried to yell at it to stop the pressure. A soft cry filters in above the noise and it continues to ripple in echo.

I've been slipping in and out of consciousness. Every time, I hear new voices, new murmurs and I still can't get a hold of my bearings. I can't tell where the voices come from, where they begin or end. I'm on an immobile cloud of agony—and I can't make it dissipate.

"Bella." I tense at the familiar voice. "Bella, can you hear me?"

I will my body to move every limb or every finger, anything that'll lift me off this numbness.

My fingers twitch. I feel warmth envelop them.

"I know you can hear me, hun. You're ok. Relax." It's Angela. _She's _ok. She's here and she's safe. My body relaxes instantly.

Just knowing makes the pressure bearable. I can't fight the fatigue. I drift into unconsciousness again. With her assurance I can let go for a while. A huge weight of worry lingers and I can't remember why. I inevitably have to face whatever it is I'm too weak for—it feels like danger.

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"Open your eyes for me. Please, Bella." Angela holds on to my shoulders as they convulse in sobs. Dreams of chaos and confusion is disturbing me. "Wake up, hun," she pleads.

I open my eyes a slit. I see Angela's eyes through her dark rimmed glasses. "Ange," I whisper. My voice is hoarse.

"You're fine, Bella. No one's going to hurt you." Her tears run down my hands onto the sheets covering me. I'm in a hospital bed. The sterile smell coming from the cold air sends goose bumps over my exposed arms. I shiver. I hate hospitals—I remember everything. Dreams never let me forget.

"I'm so sorry, Ange," I manage to say. I've brought this mess to her and now she's in danger. Still, here she is, standing by my side and I can't tell her to just leave and forget I ever asked for her help. Part of me is too scared to be alone. There's nothing else I can say.

"You didn't do anything." She's shaking her head.

I hug her tighter, my tears soaking through the soft cotton sweater covering her shoulder.

Pain pulses through my torso and I instantly wrap my palm around the covered wound. I pull away with shaky hands and look around me.

"I didn't know you had a knife, Bella. What were you thinking?" Angela asks. "They said you were lucky. It was just shy from puncturing your right lung."

"It's that bad?" I ask ignoring her question.

"You needed surgery." I look up surprised. "It tore your lung a bit. It was pretty deep."

"How long has it been?"

"You've been out since yesterday. They've kept you sedated for the surgery," she answers looking down at my hand and swatting it away. "Don't touch."

"Only yesterday? It seems like forever." Angela pushed on my shoulder and I lie back on my pillow. I take a deep breath and look at the ceiling. The light over me is too bright. Angela notices my wince and switches it off. She grabs my hand and it reminds me when she was forced away from me at the store. Tears fill up my lids again.

"I was so scared, Angela. I couldn't see you…" I pause to take a breath and hold her hand tightly. "Where were you? Were you ok?"

She nods, sadness in her eyes. "I tried so hard to get back to you." Her eyes fill again with tears. "The panic," she shakes her head in disbelief. "I finally found you under a few people who were hit."

I stare at the ceiling trying to absorb the information. "Did they catch them?" I ask after a moment. I need to know.

"No," she whispers, not looking at me. A shiver runs through my spine.

"What did they want?" I whisper in a daze. Angela whimpers, but she has no answer.

We sit in silence forever. There's a knock on the door. We both start. I feel myself tense up. Angela does, too. She rises just as the door opens and Mike peeks in. Relieved, we ease back to our spots.

"Sorry. Can I come in?" he asks hesitantly.

"Of course," Angela replies, waving him over to a chair beside her. I wonder how long she's been sitting on that uncomfortable looking chair and I feel horrible. Mike's presence doesn't escape me. I worry instantly. My brows furrow.

"Glad to see you're up, Bella," he says smiling sheepishly. He settles in the chair. "How do you feel?"

"Why is he here?" I ask Angela, ignoring his question. She shifts uncomfortably in her chair. Mike visibly tenses.

"I'm sorry. I'll leave," he says.

"No." Angela grabs his wrist and pulls him back down. "I'm sorry, Bella. But I had to tell someone," she says shaking her head. "I was confused and lost and I had no one to help me. She pauses and swallows thickly. "He knows."

I sigh angrily. The effort sending pain through me again. I yelp and reach for my side. Angela rises quickly. "No!" I say sharply pushing her hand away. "I don't want anyone else to get hurt! I shouldn't have involved you. Now you're at risk, too, Mike."

"You weren't the only one! I'm sorry, but I needed help," she replies sharply. My heart sinks at her words. _Of course she did_. "I called him. He rushed to the mall. It took me so long to find you under all the people, clothes…the mess. To see you hurt…" she trails off shaking her head. "We carried you out of the building to an ambulance unnoticed. I explained everything to Mike while you were in surgery."

I look from Mike to Angela. Mike walks to my side. He hesitates, but leans over and gathers me in an embrace. I hear him murmur in my ear to calm me. For a moment I let him. I need this so much. I tighten my hold around his neck. I weep knowing it will never be Charlie's arms.

"I can't have both of you hurt. "If anything happened to you…because of me..." I say through my tears. "I can't see any of you hurt."

"Well, that's not for you to decide, Bella," Mike says as he leans back. He looks more serious than I've ever seen him. He palms hair away from my face. "You didn't ask for this. No one asked for this. Seems like you need all the help you can get."

I nod in response. Angela is right. If something happens to me, she'll need help.

"Now, question is…Who the hell are they and why are they after you?" he continues.

"We don't know," Angela answers for me.

"What's Charlie doing about this? I assume he's combing the city trying to find them?" he asks with his eyebrows raised. He sits on the bed beside me. His hand holds mine. "I expected this place swarming with cops."

I shake my head looking away. "I told him. He didn't believe me."

"Why not?" His fist clenches. He looks from me to Angela.

"I told you," Angela speaks up. "That Jake guy is his best friend's son from Forks. He can't believe he would do this. It's connected with the crest. This is government related. I know it. Without Charlie, we don't have the support from a higher authority."

Mike sits back and stares out the window beside my bed. The rain hits the window and falls in streaks rapidly. The glow of the fog covered sun is the only source of light in the room. "Of course," he says after a moment. His expression looking just as distraught as Angela's and how mine probably looks like. We're alone at this. There's not one lifesaver to hold on to. It's like fighting a war with an unknown enemy and without armor. Exposed to every lethal weapon…blindly.

A nurse comes in to check my vitals. She announces the doctor's arrival in a while as I have finally woken from my surgery. All the while, the three of us sit in silence listening to the quiet murmurs of the TV at the bed next to us, separated by a curtain. Silence indicates our minds running full speed figuring out what to do.

"Let me go get some ice water for you," Angela says breaking the silence. I stiffen at her leaving the safe room that has become a haven. _What if they're here? What will stop them from breaking into a Hospital? Nothing. _My breathing speeds and muscles coil at the thought.

"It's ok. I'll be back quickly," she says noticing my worry. But she can't fool me. She's frightened, too.

She stands to walk out and the TV volume rises slightly as the familiar music chords to the news channel chime in. My eyes cut to the TV and there, in what seems like surveillance footage, I see the same store Angela and I were in two days ago. Without a thought, I will my muscles to move and climb off the bed to get closer. The IV cords tangle and some disconnect as I charge forward to hear the faint voice of the news reporter. Mike jolts to my side to stop me.

"What are you doing?!" he shouts. Angela runs back from the door with wide eyes and pushes me towards the bed.

"Turn it up! Turn the volume up!" I yell. I stumble to the adjacent bed. I push the curtain out of the way to reveal a patient in his bed. I scan the area for the beige bulky remote. My hand is on my wound as I hiss from the movement.

"Bella! Are you crazy?!" Angela screams. She trips over her chair and reaches for the IV cords trailing behind me.

"It's them at the mall!" I ignore them and lean over the poor old man and feel around the sheets trying to find the remote. He stirs and moans as I lift the sheets off him, exposing his bare legs and thin body covered in a hospital gown.

"Oh my God," whimpers Angela when she looks up at the TV and sees that I'm right. Mike says the same but not at the TV. He's mortified and tries to pry me away from the patient's bed as he watches me invade the man's privacy.

"Help me find it!" I snap at him, making him jump slightly. He turns and begins to search with me with his eyes wide.

"So sorry, sir." He whispers his apologies to the old man that has now woken up and silently staring at us hovering over him. Mike stops suddenly and turns to me in realization. "You have your own TV! Why are we bothering him?!"

"Oh," I stop, looking up at him. "Too late now! It'll take too long to switch on." I turn to continue searching. I hear Angela running to the other side of the bed to help us find it.

"It's over there," croaks the old man in a watery whisper. He points his bony finger towards the direction. We all stop and turn to look.

"Uh, thanks," replies Mike as Angela reaches for it on the nightstand behind her.

"Quick!" I say frantically. We all turn to watch the horrifying images on screen.

Through a surveillance camera, we see men in black run around aisles of clothing and store counters. Their hands stuffed inside their coats or behind their backs on their belts. Others are holding up guns or what seem to look like black specs on the blurry screen. I notice where they are heading. I remember our surroundings and know that Angela and I are behind the red sweaters and a tall mannequin on a pedestal. I can faintly see my arm on the far corner of the screen.

As the reporter on TV tells the audience to watch closely, Angela, Mike and I gravitate to the screen sitting up high on a shelf. Our heads rise as it towers over us.

As if synchronized, all the black figures turn to look to their left towards the opening of the store facing the mall. Automatically, they retreat back and take cover. Gunshots fire off as the screen gleams for a split second and goes black. We instantly groan as the feed is cut off. The reporter continues his report; they all got away—leaving no signs or evidence behind, but the damage. We listen in silence as the reporter continues to say that they are led to believe it was gang related. Amidst the chaos at the scene, the perpetrators slipped away without notice.

I stagger back against Mike's chest, suddenly feeling weak. My hand is still on my wound. He wraps his arms around me carefully. He whispers something to me, but all I can see is the images from the footage running in my head over and over. _They were so close._

Mike carries me back to bed.

"Are you ok, Bella?" Mike asks again. I nod, but I'm in a daze. I take a breath and close my eyes. "Fucking insane."

"Why is this happening?" I ask rhetorically in a small voice. They look at me with pity in their eyes…and unmistakable fear. No one has the answer. I sigh. "I'm so tired of crying. I'm so tired of all this. I just don't understand." Angela brushes the hair off my forehead. I must look a total mess.

"Did Harry run this story on the paper? Who wrote it?" I ask after breathing a moment trying to divert my mind.

"He did run it. Sam wrote it," Mike says. "Harry only knows what the news knows. Angela told him you were both there." He shakes his head. "No one knows."

I nod relieved, "Good. And Sam is good." I sniff whipping away the rest of my tears as I remember one of our youngest journalists I used to mentor. "I feel like I'll never be normal again. Can't even work anymore."

"Don't worry darling," says a voice from across the room—the old frail man. "Everything happens for a reason. Someone was watching over you. You're safe now."

We freeze and look over at him and he's staring off at the now muted TV. His words hit me deeply. _For a reason._

Mike and Angela look back at me and we just stare at each other in disbelief. We never thought he would be listening, let alone know what's happening. I realize he's right. Someone was watching over Angela and me. They never reached us.

"He's right," Mike speaks up mimicking my thoughts, "You wouldn't have ended up here otherwise."

I nod. I infinitely thank whoever it is.

Without warning, the door swings open, making all of us jump. Angela yelps and Mike comes closer to my side to cover me. I notice and my heart breaks for his intention.

Charlie steps in with an authority like he owns the hospital. My stomach clenches at his presence and his stern demeanor. He scans the room, looks at Angela and then at Mike. No one says a word.

When he shifts his eyes on mine, my anger is already flaring up my neck, making my cheeks flush. as I glare under my eyelashes.

"Can I have a word with my daughter privately?" he demands, never leaving his eyes from mine.

"No," I answer back bluntly. "They stay. Whatever you need to say, say it."

"Uh…It's ok, Bella. We'll just be outside," replies Mike nervously. Angela looks at me concerned.

"Thank you," Charlie answers stiffly. He moves his hands in the pockets of his black trench coat. His polished shoes shine without a spec of evidence from the weather outside.

I take a breath and shift on the bed to look out the window. Angela's hand reaches for mine before she walks out. I squeeze it tightly wishing I wouldn't be left alone. I've had enough to deal with. I don't need an argument with Charlie right now.

"I'm tired. Please, leave me be," I plead in a low whisper. I'm feeling fatigue again from the meds being injected in me. My eyes droop slightly and the pain is escalating from my sudden movements earlier.

I feel the bed sink slightly from his weight as he sits. His familiar cologne reaches my nose and my eyes instantly water. It triggers memories when I was still home and safe, when I hugged him closely. His scent soothes me. It angers me more when my instinct is to run to him for comfort when I should be angry. Despite the unknown out there awaiting me, I relax feeling him close.

"Bells…" he sighs. I feel his warm heavy hand on my leg. I restrain myself from reaching for it. "Honey, what happened?"

"What do you mean? You're the lieutenant, right? You know everything."

"That's not what I mean. I just want to know how you ended up here recovering from surgery from a knife wound." His hand tightens slightly. "Look at me, please."

I don't move.

"I know what happened. Just talk to me…" he trails off.

"Do you really?" I ask angrily as turn to face him. "Do you really know exactly what happened? Is that what your department figured out? All that and that's all you got?" I pause and sit up slightly ignoring the shooting pain under the gauze. "I'm here because miraculously something happened that prevented me from being killed. I'm here because I was so scared for my own life that I had to carry a knife around for protection! I'm here, _lieutenant_, because they were there _to take me!_" I cry out holding my side. The shouting pierced through in pain.

He reaches for me and I hear him telling me to calm down. I swat his hand away and lay back on the stiff pillow panting. "They were there for me." I whisper through my tears.

He sighs beside me and silence envelops us.

"I just don't understand," he says breaking the silence. "If this were true, Bella, why would Jake be after you? Do you have enemies I don't know about? Did you get in trouble? You can tell me anything."

My cry turns to sobs.

"Bella, please. I'm trying to understand," he says moving up the bed to sit closer.

"I'm trying to tell you but you won't listen."

"I'm here."

"No…you're not." I shake my head sniffing. "And you weren't there when I needed you. I don't know what's happening. Please believe me. I just need you right now." I sit up quickly and wrap my arms around his neck. His scent is stronger as I breathe on his shoulder. "Please..."

He stiffens from the surprise. Slowly, I feel his hand move up my back and he responds. "It's ok, baby. I'm here. No ones gonna hurt you." He whispers. I nod relieved holding him tighter.

"I'm sorry what I said about mom. I didn't mean it."

"It's alright. You were upset," he replies. He kisses my cheek and lets go of me. He looks down at my form when his eyes widen. "Damn it, you're bleeding. Let me call the nurse."

I watch him leave the room in a rush. I lay still breathing and feeling more relaxed than I have in weeks. A nurse walks in after a moment and tsks at me before preparing to redress the wound. Charlie stands to the side looking out the window to give us privacy. He makes a call on his cell phone and speaks quietly. His stance stiffens suddenly.

I lift off the bed instinctively to listen closely to what he's saying. The nurse stops me with her hand and huffs, laying me back down. I whisper an apology as I look back at Charlie. His voice rises as he murmurs harshly at the other person on the line. My brows furrow.

"Uh…Bella," he turns to look over his shoulder after ending the call. "I'll…uhh…If it makes you feel better, I'll have someone keep watch outside the building tonight. Is that ok?"

"Thank you," I nod.

"I'll let you rest now. I'll be back tomorrow." With that, he walks out without another word.

The nurse finishes and gives me a warning to stay put. Mike and Angela walk in with wide eyes.

"What did he say?" Mike asks.

"He called in his security to watch over the building tonight."

"That's it?" asks Angela. "Did he say he was going to investigate?"

I shake my head, realizing he never mentioned anything else. I can't stop thinking about the call he made and his behavior. It was almost as if he tried to change the subject or dismiss it.

Why do I get the feeling he's trying to avoid this?

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**A/N** Next Chap up faster than fast. I know, I'm a liar...'the meet' comes next, promise!


	6. Chapter 5: Awake

**A/N:** I did say faster than fast. ;-) Not such a liar there, am I? *proud*

**I don't own Twilight.** I just own a Mini and my FF reading device—iPhone.

|:::::[-]:::i):::| —Tighten yours...with crazy glue.

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**Chap 5 - Awake**

As the night falls and the window dries from the rain, the glow of the full moon saturates the bed sheets and walls around us in a blue hue. Mike and Angela never left. I insisted they go home to rest but I'm secretly glad they're keeping me company.

Mike took the liberty to lie on the bed beside me. His deep slumber made him stir until he leaned his chest against my back, his arm around my neck. I lay still, wondering how I ended up spooning with Mike…from work. I roll my eyes and chuckle as Angela covers her mouth with laughter. She tried to get as comfortable as possible in a recliner.

"I think you got the better deal," I whisper loud enough for her to hear.

I can't see her face in the darkness, but her muffled laugh shakes her silhouette.

"Stop, it hurts when I laugh," I say reaching for my side.

"You're the one making me laugh," she says straightening slightly. She takes a deep breath to calm her hysterics.

Despite the environment and circumstances, I'm glad for the light moment. I've forgotten how carefree Angela can be.

I couldn't sleep and neither could Angela. We kept each other company as she talked about Ben and their rendezvous the night she found me in her apartment. I was listening happily; relieved they finally got it together.

But again, I couldn't help but be a bit jealous at their newfound love for each other. I'd certainly never had what they have.

"It would be nice to have someone someday," I said without thinking. Angela sighs.

"I know. You will. And someone who will cherish you and respect you and love you for who you are—forever," she trails off.

"Wow, that was so corny. You really are in love." I smirk.

"What? I mean it!" She turns to look at me, laughing. "I said that out loud, didn't I? Well, fine then, I hope you end up with someone who drools on your neck while poking your ass spooning with his little 'mike'," she whispers loudly.

I snort so loud Mike stirs and moans. He tightens his hold on me. I mouth "_bitch_" at Angela. She's doubles over in laugher.

She gets up, telling me she has to go to the bathroom. Her bladder has given up while laughing. I watch her walk out of the room half laughing and half worried. _Will she be ok?_ My smile fades.

I make a small prayer for her. I look at the dark blue sky and listen to Mike's breathing as he sleeps. _He's not so bad. What guy would risk his life to be with a mess like me? _I reach for his fingers hanging over my face and examine his perfectly manicured nails. The real question should be: _What guy with perfectly manicured nails would risk his life to be with a mess like me?_

I giggle quietly.

The door swings open. Angela runs in and starts going through the small closet at the end of the bed. She grabs my clothes. My heart speeds up in a matter of seconds.

"What did you see?" I ask sitting up.

"They're here!" She drops the clothes on the bed.

_Nothing would've stopped them._

I shake Mike awake. He stirs and opens his eyes. The moment he sees the panic in mine, he gets up. He shoves his jacket on and digs for the car keys in his pocket.

"You ready?" he asks Angela. She nods.

"No time to get dressed," she says, pulling the jacket on me.

"What are you guys doing?" I ask confused.

"It's ok, Bella. We sort of made an escape plan while Charlie was here…just in case. Quick, let's go." Mike pulls my arm over his neck and grabs my waist.

Angela runs to the door and peaks out. She's shaking. The coast is clear. She opens the door and drags a wheelchair from the hallway. Mike gently sits me down. He grabs the bed sheets to cover me—my jacket hardly showing. Angela reaches out and disconnects all but one IV connected to a saline bag. She rests the bag on my lap and stuffs the excess under my left thigh.

"Shhh, it's alright," says Angela. She looks like she needs the assurance as well.

"How long do we have?" Mike asks Angela with anxiety in his voice. He mumbles profanities under his breath as he tries to steady his breathing.

"I saw two down the hall. They're checking every room. We have to hurry!" She peaks out the door again and opens it wide.

I ready myself to leave our temporary haven. My breath hitches.

I look up at the old man in his bed. He nods once in farewell and I smile slightly. Mike pushes the wheelchair down the corridor. The light of the corridor makes me blink repeatedly. I feel the cold air in the hallway hitting my face. I shiver.

We reach an intercepting corridor where the elevators are located. Angela gasps and steps back. She waves to go the other way. Mike pushes me ahead. I catch a glance of a black, coat covered arm and a glove disappearing through a doorway. Patients scream and protest when the men barge in. Mike's steps grow quicker.

My heart rate matches his every step.

We seem to be going though a maze of corridors ending in dead ends. We turn down a hallway and from far away I see the glowing red lit 'EXIT' sign. Angela points frantically. Mike begins to run.

Angela gestures for us to stay back as she stops abruptly before a corridor intersection. She catches herself with the wall before she steps into view. My heart is pounding as she peaks around the wall.

The light from the illuminated hallway shines on her profile. She shakes her head. We are frozen in place, staring at the exit that's just out of reach. I can hear their jostled footsteps on the hard floors as they run around barging into doors.

They're getting closer.

She peeks again. Boots hit the floor and echo down the corridor and with every step, my heart pounds. Mike snakes a hand to cover my mouth—I'm panting too loudly. I focus on Angela leaning her head on the wall with her eyes closed. I grab her hand tightly.

The echoing steps stop just short from the entryway. A door squeaks open and after a moment a patient screams in fright. I jump from the noise but manage to stay quiet.

The steps quicken and the door slams as it continues running away from us. Angela peeks again. She lifts a hand to keep us still. After a moment she waves the hand frantically. She begins to jog toward the exit.

Angela pushes the door open. She holds it open for Mike to push me through.

"Shit," Mike whispers. "Stairs."

Angela turns in a huff. "I'll grab the wheelchair. You help her down. We'll reach another floor and grab an elevator."

We do as she says and begin our decent down the stairs. Every step sends pain through my side. I hiss and pant from the effort. Mike holds my waist for support.

"We need to hurry," Angela says frantically. She's looking up to make sure the door hasn't opened. Mike huffs and stops at a landing. Before I know what he's doing, he lifts me off the ground and quickly runs down the stairs cradling me in his arms. I yelp from the sudden movement.

"I know it hurts. Just one more flight," he manages to say through his heavy breaths.

We reach three floors down and they settle me back in the wheelchair. Angela scans the area. When she sees no one, she opens the door wide. We run in and make fast turns to get to the elevators. People look at us suspiciously.

We reach the elevators and Angela hits the button to descend. Other people are waiting as well. We try to act as cool as possible. I cover my frantic panting with the sheets.

An elevator finally opens. We're forced to squeeze in with all the strangers. The awkward environment settles over us as we listen to the calming music lingering in the elevator. I'm looking at my reflection on the metal doors when I notice movement beside me. A woman is looking at my wheelchair curiously. I follow her gaze. The IV cords are slipping out from under me. _Shit._

The lit buttons are descending slowly. I look back at the woman. I inch my hand under my blanket to tuck the IV cords back in.

I peek at the descending numbers when the elevator suddenly stops. Angela and Mike visibly tense. My breath hitches.

The doors slowly open. As the woman passes by to leave, I jam the cords under me again. She cuts her eyes to mine and sees the panic in them. Her mouth opens but a loud bag from outside the doors distracts us. Everybody turns. There's a black figure running towards the elevators far down the corridor.

I gasp. My tension shifts into palpable fear.

Mike leaps forward and slams into the wall of buttons. He jams his finger repeatedly on the button to make the doors close. Angela is frozen in place with her hands in mine.

The woman looks back at us—confusion in her eyes. She turns away and her body reacts. She pushes on the man's shoulders in front of her and they run into the hallway.

The man in black is getting closer. The doors begin to close. Mike presses his palm on one side and pushes, as if to make it go faster. "Fuck! Go, go!" he screams in panic.

I cut my eyes to the man in black. His skin is tan and his teeth glowing white in a growl. The muscles in his face are sharp. The doors are just inches from touching. He reaches behind him to reveal a gun.

I scream.

The doors shut and loud bangs repeatedly hit the metal doors from outside. Mike is on the floor when he leaps up and covers both, Angela and me with his body.

The elevator begins to descend. We straighten to look at the numbers.

"Are you girls ok?" he asks lifting the sheet off of me to look me over. He turns and helps Angela off the floor. He paces in the small space wracking his hair. "They have to be downstairs. We're not going to make it out. We're not going to make it…"

Angela hugs me close from my side. I hug back with weak shaking hands.

The elevator chimes announcing the arrival of the last floor.

"Ok, ok." Mike runs his hands over his face. "Angela you push Bella. When the doors open I want you to stay behind me. I'll run out first. You have to run as fast as you can. Do not stop. Do you understand?" His lips are pale in a thin line.

Angela moves quickly behind me.

"No!" I reach for his hand. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Bella, calm down! There's no other way." He straightens as he looks up at the illuminated numbers. The elevator chimes again. "Angela, run as fast as you can."

Mike stands in front of me. His hands spread slightly beside him, his jacket covering part of the doors. I hear my heart in my ears and feel it in my throat.

The doors part. _Oh, God help us!_

Mike shoots out like a bolt and I watch him look around.

He turns, his eyes wide. He waves his arm. Angela runs full speed, passing the front desk. The workers behind the desk look up at the commotion. I hear shouts.

We reach the doors when we turn our heads. A door slams open—the staircase. Out walks the man in black. We gasp simultaneously.

Mike grabs the door and swings it open and Angela runs through it. A security guard running towards us suddenly stops when he sees the intruder.

We run away from the hospital entrance. The commotion and sounds of gunfire in the lobby make my hands to grip the handles on either side of me. I pray Angela's legs won't falter. I am being pushed so fast, I close my eyes against the wind. Mike follows closely behind.

"Hurry! This way," Mike shouts. I hear his keys in his hand jingling.

We reach Mike's car. With the speed of light, Mike has the back door open. He reaches to help me inside. Angela is already climbing in from the other side.

"Get in! I got it!" I say swinging my legs in before closing the door.

Mike jumps in and fires up the engine. He backs out of the spot and squeals the wheels on the pavement. The force jostles Angela and me in the back. Pain bites at my side.

I see the man in black running out of the doors. Suddenly, there are more men pouring out of different exits from the hospital. We're completely surrounded.

Mike reaches the front gate and smashes through the gate line. Splinters of wood fly in all directions.

I turn as best as I can to see them following.

"Oh god, a truck. Mike, faster!" Angela shouts.

"Just hold on!" Mike turns a corner onto a road.

Green lights are in our favor. The late night grants us less obstacles on the road. The truck is far behind.

"Fuck, I what do I do? Where do we go?" exclaims Mike.

Realization hits me. We can lead them where they wouldn't want to be seen—a place where we can find help. "Drive to the police station! Drive to Charlie!" I shout directions over Mike's shoulder.

Mike hits the gas harder.

_They have to see. They have to help us once they see._

We make turns until I can't see them behind us in the dark night. Relief washes over me. "I think we lost them."

Angela relaxes a bit. She holds my hand tightly. We watch Mike whirl his way around streets. I point directions at him towards the station.

From our right, a large black predator is coming towards us at full speed. Metal crashes together. The sound is defining. Mike's car is jostled and dragged to the side of the road.

I lose my hold. I'm flying, with Angela in tow through the confined space. Shards of glass pierce skin. Wheels squeal. There are blurred lights, unfocused. My teeth clench. My hands are in the air in an effort to find my bearings. The force turns the car in a circle.

Silence.

I whimper.

Hours, minutes or seconds have passed. No sounds.

I try to make my limbs move. I grab the handle over the door with shaking hands. I pull my self up. I feel something heavy on my legs. I will my head to move. It spins. I close my eyes to make it stop. I cry out for Mike and Angela.

Nothing.

I feel my way through the space around me and find a face. Angela. She's slick with blood. I scream her name. She doesn't move. I feel her neck for a pulse. It's weak on my fingertips. I'm crying. The tears blur my vision as I hug her close to me.

"Mike!" I try to call. I lift myself up and the weight shifts off of me. My legs are free. I'm against the door, pinned to the window. Blood smeared it and I can't see though it. I lift my arm and try to wipe it away. _Where are they? _

I cry for Angela and Mike. I cry for Charlie. I grow weaker. I cry wishing I could be far away from here. I call their names again. No one responds.

Metal shifts and the door swings open. I fall to the cold ground. I'm panting. I lift myself up on my feet—my legs are shaking. I turn to see the wreck. My legs give in.

Time stops when I look up. A black figure is running towards me.

_My nightmare. _

I gasp and stumble to my feet. Adrenaline is soaring through me. My legs move. I run the other way as fast as I can. My pulse is deafening in my ears.

In my peripheral, I see cars hissing and leaking steam. People are screaming. Others climb out of them.

I look over my shoulder and he's close behind. His skin is dark in the night. His brows furrowed in an evil glare. The gun gleams in his hand. My hearts is banging in my chest. I scream for someone to help me.

I stumble. My hands shoot out to brake my fall. I slam into a human wall. A black clothed chest. I look up. A cold metal gun barrel touches the space between my eyes. Angry green eyes stare down at me.

"MOVE!" his deep voice ricochets in my ear. A strong arm wraps around my shoulder and I spin away from the gun.

Gunshots rips. I reach to cover my ears. I squeeze my eyes shut and turn to pull away from his strong grip. I can't stop screaming. My knees buckle.

The piercing fire ceases. He heaves me over his shoulder. I kick to free myself. I clench my fist and bang them on his back. He tightens his hold on me.

"Let go of me!"

"Stop fighting! I'm getting you out of here," he yells back. He runs full speed. My upper body bounces from the movement. I can hardly breathe. Sharp pain rips through my wound covered with gauze.

The chaotic sounds from the street where we left the wreck behind grows farther. A forest of trees amidst darkness passes me by. It feels like eternity. I'm dizzy and feel blood trickling down my face—dripping on my hands. My eyes flutter.

He stops suddenly and puts me down—his arms around my waist. I grow limp as my arms fall over his. My head falls back as I stare up treetops and the moon in a dark blue sky. I can't fight back. An eerie presence clenches my stomach.

Silence.

"Miss Isabella Swan." His soft velvet voice sending chills up my spine. His hand moves in my hair as he cradles my head to lift it. I gaze into menacing green eyes. He chuckles. "It's a pleasure finally meeting you—awake."

I can't respond. I sink against him, too weak to stand. I jump at an unexpected prick in my neck. The pain intensifies. I feel heat flowing through the vein there. I whimper.

"Shhh, Isabella. Sleep now," he whispers, his cheek against mine. He wipes a tear shaped drop of blood away with his thumb as they fall endlessly, soaking my hair. His warm breath on my cold cheek.

I sway. A deep calm flows through my body, filling every nerve in complete warmth. My eyes drift closed. He hushes me against his lips in a kiss. I feel myself falling through a deep endless pit.

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**A/N:** Review in exchange for hushed kisses from the hero. Thanks for the reviews. It's greatly, greatly appreciated. I'd also like to hear from those who just hit 'favorite'. I see you and thanks. The 100th reviewer gets a shout out next chap. :-)


	7. Chapter 6: Past

**A/N:** The 100th review shout out goes to TVholic29. She says this is really fun to read. Gah. :-D Thank you! A shout out for the 130th review? Sure. :-)

Thanks so much for all your reviews. I laugh hard and take in every concern/feedback with interest. This is a nice high...with no dope. Not that I ever tried *asthmatic and would die* LOL

Ok, this was a tough chap just because I'm setting up for the beginning of a new phase for the story. Lots of decisions and discussions with my gals. In the end, I think it's my fav so far. But one thing: This chap was beta'd with just TWO misspells. Everything else is as you'll read it first draft. I couldn't believe it! I thought she was lying to me. The upside of her is that she's not a regular FF reader and takes this story in with another element in mind brilliantly. Thank you Beige. ILU. :-)

**I don't own Twilight.** I just own a Mini (which I cleaned yesterday and my ass/back/legs hurt now) and my FF reading device—iPhone.

|:::::[-]:::i):::| —Tighten yours...cuz yeah. *fans self*

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* _Sound: Nine Inch Nails - The great Below  
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**Chap 6 – Past**

Fire. It stings my veins flowing through each of my limbs. My eyes are fused shut. I want to run away from the fire consuming me. I'm trapped.

_Move. Run. _My conscious screams at me.

My body jolts. My head snaps up. My eyes unstick at a stinging pain.

The hollow of my throat caves and fills as my chest rises and falls with it. My pulse thumps on my neck. It pounds in my ears, ribs, and chest. My mouth is covered with cloth. A beaming spotlight over me blinds me in a darkened room. I blink.

Tall silhouettes. They're all around me.

My limbs minutely prickle back to life. I stare at silhouetted arms, heads, legs—people, as I find my bearings. _Where am I? _I'm standing but I'm not touching the ground. A hard cold flat surface straps my body tightly against it. I'm intact.

They watch and I'm their experiment.

No voices. No sounds. Silence is the loudest agony.

Anger. I fight at the straps around me, my head drops with the effort. Every second flashes images in my mind. Running, screaming, blood…Angela and Mike. I remember.

_Move. Run. _I can hear it again.

I break the piercing silence with my grunts. Sweat dripping down from my scalp. My knees bend slightly. I use the straps around my ankles as leverage, sliding lower over the metal behind me. My shoulders strain against their shackles. I growl and fight.

Nothing.

I watch my own chest heave. I give up. The straps dig into my skin. This is not a hospital. This is not a safe haven. I'm in hell and they watch. A foreign thin rubber material is the only thing shielding my body down to my thighs. Shame doesn't even register as I am partially exposed through the pale material.

I look up. No one has moved.

Fear. I can die countless ways. I am at their will—vulnerable and bare. This is the last my eyes will see as they water.

I scream.

"Enough!" storms a voice above my undoing.

I stop. I watch as silhouettes turn away from me. All but one. Tension fills the room as they all stare at the one who didn't turn away. He sounds familiar.

He takes steps back into complete darkness. His back hitting a surface I can't see. The attention turns back to me. I dart my eyes and I wait.

A low sadistic chuckle makes my eyes cut to a silhouette walking towards me. Three more echoing steps and he reveals his face under the beaming light. His arms are crossed over his chest, one hand fingering his chin in thought. His crisp white lab coat touches his thighs in gray slacks, folding over pointy black shoes that reflect the light. His blue button up looks dull against his brilliant eyes—a contrast to his platinum white slick hair.

"She looks so much like her mother," he says. The silk in his voice sounds far too endearing for its intention. His expression looks far in thought and pained. He hums.

I freeze at his words.

"I'm sure you don't remember me. You were so broken, really," he says and pauses. His expression changes to amusement instantly. Slowly, he lifts his finger over his cheek, running it along the length of a scar.

I blink.

"Have you been taking the pills I prescribed, Miss Swan?" he smirks. His finger lifts as he flicks his hand in a dismissive wave. "Of course not. I'm sure you've been more than preoccupied these past few days."

My eyes widen at the realization. The scar. The deep blue eyes. The doctor who came to Angela's apartment to check on me—It was him.

My hands shake.

"How are you feeling?" he asks as if this scenario would ever soothe me. He reaches to me. I flinch. "Oh, honey. Don't be afraid. I'm not the one you should be worried about. Just relax." He sounds unconvincing.

"I'm going to take this off for you. It looks a bit uncomfortable," he says running his finger along the cloth over my mouth. He completely ignores my current restrained state. "But you mustn't scream, darling, or I'll be forced to sew those pretty lips of yours together," he adds calmly, tapping a finger on my bottom lip.

I exhale loudly and swallow a sob.

He chuckles. "Humor definitely doesn't cut it in these circumstances, I guess?" he says, turning slightly over his shoulder towards the man in darkness. He slips the cloth off.

My mouth is dry as I run my stiff tongue over my chapped lips. They sting.

"And a pretty little tongue too…" he trails off, transfixed with my mouth. I look away. He chuckles again.

I hate the sound.

"Well, how rude of me. I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen. They call me Carlisle," he says motioning towards the group behind him. "But you can call me Doctor," he shrugs. "It would certainly sound nice slipping from that mouth of yours."

My blood is boiling. He reaches again and wipes a tear away. I turn away in anger.

"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here, hm?" He rubs my tear between his thumb and finger. "Well, it's fairly simple. One does not seek for something without reason, without gaining anything. Correct?" He waits for me to answer. I don't think I can speak.

"Someone wants something from you..." he sings in a haunting mocking tone and twirls his finger close to my face. He chuckles yet again.

"You go about your pathetic little life and you don't have the slightest clue, do you?" He paces in my peripheral vision. "Too busy unfolding the mysteries of the nights. Trying to find a killer." He stops in front of me and pauses. "Ridiculous."

The strains are beginning to hurt from the weight. I shift and try not to whimper. _He knows everything about me._

He leans in. I can feel his breath on my cheek. "You're going to have to learn to mind your business," he hisses. His voice is sharp and venomous. I gasp. I turn the other way as far as my neck would let me.

I spot a metal clinical table with various instruments. The metal gleams off of sharp, pointy or rigged knives. Needles lie in large cylinders in different sizes. _This is how they'll kill me. _I begin to breathe erratically. A monitor beeps rapidly.

He steps away as I hear a different set of footsteps coming closer. A woman. Her heels click on the hard floor. Her soft perfume reaches my nose. Icy fingers graze my arm.

"No!" I scream. My voice is hoarse. I begin to fight against the strains again.

"Get back!" Carlisle yells at the woman. She backs away.

"She's hyperventilating," she pleads. Her voice is small and empathetic.

"Move!" he shouts again. In an instant, I feel cold sharp metal against my neck. His elbow lifted high over his shoulder holding the knife. His other hand grips the table beside my head. "Do you have any idea how sabotaging your actions were? How stupid? I should slice you from ear to ear," he spits his words. My breaths are deep and constricting. My eyes squeezed shut.

"Carlisle!" The familiar voice roars again from the darkness in warning.

The doctor freezes instantly. I hear metal hit the ground. He's panting angrily as he stares at me. He closes his eyes for a moment to calm himself. "Forgive me. I overreacted." A smirk creeps up his lips. "My manners seemed to have slipped away." He steps back.

"How do you know my mother?" I manage to whisper breaking the silence. It erupts from deep inside me and I couldn't stop it from slipping my mouth. _I need to know._

He looks dumbfounded at my question, clearly not expecting me to speak. His eyes widen and narrow just as quickly. "Renee…" he trails off.

I turn to look him in the eyes. Anger heats my neck and cheeks. "Yes, _my _mother." I annunciate every syllable. I can't stop the anger from seeping through my voice.

"What did they tell you, Isabella? Hm?" He pauses and snaps his coat straight. "Did they tell you how she died? Tell me. How did the Lieutenant lie to you?"

I blink. _He knows Charlie. _I can't swallow the lump in my throat.

"Tell me." He insists.

"Car accident," I finally whisper, never leaving his intense gaze. My eyes water.

I flinch when the room is suddenly filled with loud echoing laughter. The doctor doubles over as he braces his hands on his knees. His shoulders shake. No one moves or speaks. It only sounds disturbing. "Fucking Charlie," he breathes, calming his hysterics. He wipes his eyes sniffling. "Lying to such a pretty little girl. He always was so weak and moronic."

His demeanor shifts and he's stiff again. The hard lines of his face show and his nose flares with anger as he straightens. "He missed a crucial part, Miss Swan. He didn't tell you she was murdered did he?" he asks shaking his head. "No, of course not. He wouldn't have the guts to tell you that. To tell you the truth." He takes a step closer.

My lip quivers as I fight back a sob with all my strength. "You lie," I seethe, shooting daggers at in his eyes.

"Oh no, darling. Lying is not one of my traits. Ask any one of them," he hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "Remember those Neanderthals following you? At the store…the parking lot…the hospital? Hm? Yes, darling…" he nods running his tongue over his lips. "They killed her. And now they're after you."

I watch as the corner of his mouth lifts and I shake my head furiously. Tears streak my face and I can't hold back any longer. "No…" I whisper. My body shakes.

"Yes," he nods. "They did. I told you I'm not the one you should be worried about."

"No!" I scream. My body convulses in sobs.

He takes one long stride and cups my face in his hands roughly and lifts it. "YES!" he shouts. "They took her life! They took away your mother!"

I grow limp as I hear my grief fill the room. Never in my existence have I felt myself unravel like this. Images of the little bits of memories I hold of Renee flash through my mind. Dark locks of soft hair. The hazel in her eyes. Her hands. _My mother. _

The doctor's hands soften around my face. His thumbs move over my temples faintly. He pulls away.

Heels click on the floor around me. The metal bed shifts and I'm laid flat. The straps loosen and cold hands rub the reddened tender skin. My hands are free to cover my face.

"Seek me when you'd like your vengeance, Isabella. You have all the time you need," says the doctor from across the room. A door slams shut.

A distressing cry comes out of me at his words. My teeth grind. I fist my eyes feeling my nails dig into my palms. I want to crawl into a hole and never see the light again. I want to scratch out of my skin to take away the pain that crawls over every inch of it. In just a fraction of a moment the only closure, peace and hope I held on to my entire life has been ripped out of me and sent down a dark abyss. _My mother._

A hand grips my arm. I snap. Rage rises from my very core and I leap off the cold table in defense. I stagger back away from reach. My bare feet grow frigid against the shiny surface under me. Metal trays shatter to the floor. My arms sweep behind me to get my bearings. I knock over cylinders, liquid spreading in a dark pools around me. They shatter in sharp pebbles.

My eyes adjust. I stare up at a woman's wide eyes. I cut my eyes to a stern glare from a strong built man and shift my focus on a pair of piercing green eyes. My back hits a narrow cabinet. They take one step closer. "Stay back!" I yell.

I turn my body and push with all my strength and watch the cabinet smash on the floor before me. Glass crumbles and spreads over the floor reaching their feet. I shuffle further back.

_Move. Run. _My conscience is screaming again.A metal table digs into my back. I pant as I reach back and ghost my fingers over sharp scalpels. I fist a hand full tightly in my palm. Faster than my free arm can move, I launch the tray their direction, smacking against flesh. I run when I spot a door. Shouts ring out behind me. I push obstacles in my way, sending crashing echoes around the room.

I turn and flick a knife. I miss. I launch another. A loud grunt filters my ears and adrenaline surges through me in satisfaction. I turn and flick the largest pieces in my hand. _Hit_. Again. _Hit. Hit. _My limbs tighten. I grunt with every throw.

"Ali!" shouts one of the men. I turn and sprint for cover after flicking my wrist again. It doesn't hit the ground.

The air shifts. A breeze forces my attention behind me. I turn and flick another and watch it aim at the female. With quick speed, the scalpel stops. My eyes widen. She twists it in her hand with skillful grace. I duck. The scalpel clangs on a metal in front of me. My breath hitches.

"Get the syringe gun!" she orders. Boots shuffle on the ground.

I'm on my hands and knees looking around me for cover. I have to reach the door. A glass divider obstructs the exit. I lift off the ground and flick my last weapon and sprint, diving behind the transparent sheet.

Pop after pop of splinting needles hit the glass, missing me by mere inches. I gasp.

A male grunt echoes behind me as I ram the door open. I feel him at my heels. I whimper as I run and run as fast as I can. Corridors illuminated in florescent lights tighten my pupils. I squint. I can't find an exit in a maze of slick walls.

I steal a glance behind me and a blur of copper hair on fair skin whirls wildly as he runs closely behind. I let out a strangled cry. Fear grips my lungs. I can't find a way out.

His angry growl widens my eyes. I'm airborne. Lights blur and time slows. His grip on my waist. I swallow a scream. _BANG. _All the air from lungs escapes. My back is against the wall. My arms over my head are twisted in his strong hold.

"Are you done?" His calm breath on my face shows no sign of struggle or fatigue. I breathe in his air, filling my lungs back again as I gulp. My eyes flutter as I stare into his angry eyes. Silence.

Metal gleams in my peripheral. I drop my eyes. A knife tucked in his belt. My conscious encourages me and my muscles tighten.

"No." I respond hissing, glaring in his eyes. Without hesitating, I hook my leg over his bent knee and wrap it around his narrow waist. His grip on my wrists tightens, helping me push off to wrap my other leg around his side. My skin on his rough dark jeans. His eyes widen.

I crane my neck just inches and sink my teeth into his jugular. He growls and releases my wrists to pry me off. With quickness, I reach for the knife and hold it against his bitten skin.

"Point the way out or I'll slice your neck open," I warn between my teeth. He freezes. His hands in surrender. His neck tilts away from the sharp edge against his pulsing vein. I watch his eyes darken through his lashes.

He chuckles.

I grab a handful of his hair with my free hand and yank…hard. He inhales sharply.

"Don't fuck with me. Where is it?" I ask, tightening my legs.

He staggers and groans. His eyes close briefly as a corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk. His lips form words I can't hear. I dig the knife deeper.

He moves. His boots squeak on the shiny floor as he presses my back against the wall—pinning me. His hands on either side of my head. My heart quickens and my grip on the handle tightens. A slit of blood stains the edge. He doesn't even flinch.

"I underestimated you," he whispers. His face inches from mine. "You are certainly not that distorted face I saw on that door step—weak and scared in the shadows. This face suits you." A single finger grazes my cheek. He pauses. "Impressive, Swan…but a massive mistake." His expression grows menacing and hard. "No one touches my knife."

I gasp. With a swift twist of my wrist, his knuckles dig into my jaw as he holds the knife to _my _neck. I choke.

_How?…_

"You only get away with this once."

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**A/N:** A review to feel copper haired guy's rough jeans between your thighs. *shivers* More answers as it evolves. I promise. Thanks.


	8. Chapter 7: Adapt

**A/N:** The 130th review shout out goes to ElectricLimeGreen. She says I wrote a creepy Carlisle. Do you agree? He's my fav in that last chap but he's def not your typical Carlisle. Thanks for catching that!

I got amazing reviews last time and I'm hoping for more. Please let me know with responses if this ff blows or if it's worth it. I'd like to know. Thanks so much. This was another tough chap (when are they not?). Never comes easy for me. Had to rewrite the end. My eyes drooped while writing asleep. So many decisions to be made. Questions will be answered in time.

**I don't own Twilight.** I just own a Mini and my FF reading device—iPhone.

|:::::[-]:::i):::| —Tighten yours...A lot.

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* _Sound: The XX - Night Time_  
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**Chap 7 – Adapt**

"Masen!"

I start. The knife that was once in my possession deceives me in a sharp cut. I whimper. The knife is digging deeper against the heavy gravity from my weakening legs. They're slipping off his jeans, chafing my tender skin. I struggle to still around his narrow waist.

"Dammit, Masen!" calls a voice from afar.

He's shaking with fury. His bicep and forearm under dark sleeves are tense. The muscles contracting as it keeps the edge on my throat. My shoulder blades protest against the solid wall, crushing my lungs. I grasp the bit of air slipping through my chapped lips.

Heavy footsteps are far off, not nearly close enough to interrupt this. My eyes droop as I stare into his furrowed brows, shading dilated pupils. His nostrils flaring and lips in a grim white line. They hide behind my closed lids before appearing again.

My fingers slither off his fiery hair and limply lie on his shaking shoulders. "I should kill you," he breathes, "I should end you here."

My stomach tightens with every word. Before this second ends, he's growling against my face. The rage in him has taken over his steady previous state. "I dodged you out from under every fucking bullet and this…" his hisses against my cheek, "…this is how it ends."

My stomach drops. Shame creeps up my neck. Fear never falters as I hesitantly lift my hands to his grip. I feather my fingertips over his large nail beds and long fingers. His skin is scalding against my cold palms. I implore with a gentle squeeze.

Moments pass. Hours it seems. The footsteps never come near. Blood stopped circulating from my face. My lips turning blue as I stare with pleading eyes.

His fingers twitch. I squeeze tighter. _Please._

Slowly, his brows straighten. His panting slows against my face. "Breathe." He lets go.

I gasp for air, filling my lungs, pushing against his chest. My hands still holding his as my fingers dig his skin with the effort.

An audible gasp behind him makes him blink and shift slightly off of me. "Edward!" The females emerged from an opening off the wall almost out of thin air. Her heels click against the floor hastily. Her short black hair swivels against her cheeks as she stops. "Get your hands off my patient! Now!" she demands wide eyed.

I'm coughing and heaving as I watch his shoulders tense. The footsteps arrive late and stop down the corridor. "Masen," the built man calls from afar, amused.

Everyone is waiting for him. He stares at me.

Without a word he snatches his hand away and angles the knife towards me.

My eyes widen. The female gasps again stepping closer.

I flinch. With a grunt, he ignores my hands moving to cover my face. A loud bang echoes around us. The knife pierces the wall beside my head. I turn to stare at it bobbing in the air. My reflection on the slick metal.

A snicker follows the echo from down the hall. I shift my eyes at the built man with blonde hair. His smile seems out of place in his strong features.

"That's enough!" the female cries grabbing his shoulder. I reach for my throat as I inhale in protest, still catching my breath. My fingers slick with my blood from the stinging fresh cut. My right leg slips off. I don't have the strength.

I'm jostled. His hands slip under me. My leg is righted and I'm being carried, bouncing over his shoulder. The material covering me rides up my thighs around him. The back of my hands against his chest gripping my throat still as my head weakly bobs from the motion.

"You hurt her. She won't run," the female says in annoyance.

"You haven't seen her run," he snaps back between his teeth. He continues towards the seamless door. My heart races. My cheek immobilized on his shoulder as my lungs ease its burning. My teeth mark prominent over his dark inked skin. His blood seeps out from punctured holes. _I should've bitten harder. _My heart sinks.

We're in complete darkness going through a passageway—the built blonde man in toe with a smile still plastered on his face. I straighten. Anxiety builds in me as we go deeper through the shadows. His forearms on my hips tighten painfully. "Don't you fucking move," he says, his breath on my face. His menacing voice sends chills down my spine. I gasp, keeping still. But my limbs betray me as they shake. I feel small, weak and foolish in this state, surrounded by a cold broad embrace I never intended to seek. I cower, stealing a peak at his stern shadowed profile. My eyes water.

We're engulfed in brightness entering the lab again. I scan the area in my peripheral and see the damage I've caused. Chaotic. I left here with strengths from hope and I come back defeated. My eyes down cast. I try and remember any bit of survival skill Charlie has instilled in me when I was little. Nothing comes remotely close to fixing this. My mind is blank. _How do I escape?_

"Off," he hisses from above me. I start. I stare in his eyes confused. The stretching of my neck when I look up stings from the deep cut. I freeze.

"Get…off." His lips in a tight line. His eyes turning a deep jade. He pushes me away roughly. I blink with a loud plop on the damned metal table. My thighs are red from the chaffing of his jeans and the force of his push. My cheeks redden the same hue.

Gentle hands wrap around my shoulders and pull me to lie down. My breathing picks up. My hands crimson red when they shoot out to find my balance. The pale rubber covering my torso fails to soak the moisture when my hands clench against me.

"Jesus…" murmurs the female in sympathy. Her cold fingers on my neck as she examines. She looks up. "Get out," she orders the men still hovering close by.

I turn and watch my newfound rival wiping his neck with a crisp white cloth. He murmurs a curse as he's walking away. His eyes find mine. I look away.

"Looks like you got thoroughly fucked, Masen." I can recognize the blonde man's voice and snicker. I tense.

"_Emmett_," he snaps back in warning. Two sets of footsteps and a chuckle fade behind a slamming door.

"Sorry." I look up at the female's apologetic eyes. She moves away to grab gauze. I don't respond.

"I'm Alice," she introduces herself after a moment. Silence hangs heavy between us. She works on my neck with graceful hands—the same hands that threw a dagger at me. The irony does not escape me.

"I know this is a lot to grasp, Isabella, but I assure you we won't hurt you…intentionally." Her nostrils flare as she dabs at the cut. "You're going to need stitches." The stylish frames, I didn't notice her slip on, brush under her bangs and reflect light off the lamp above me. Her makeup looks impeccable. Her hair is shiny in a short angled bob. She carries gentle features with an underlining of mysterious vigor. She puts me at ease despite her sharp white lab coat draped down to her thighs.

"That was Emmett with the inappropriate humor. And the gentleman who bid you the favor…" she says, gesturing at my cut "…is Edward. My apologies on behalf of them." She stops to look at me. A soft smile forms her lips.

"You have no idea how difficult it was to finally have you here." She sighs. My brows crease. "This is a whole other world, Isabella. Far different from the one you had. All you ever knew is not all there is. Remember that."

I can't respond. _What does she mean?_

"This isn't a consequence," she continues, "Everything is for a reason. You just have to have patience."

My heart patters at the same words I once heard. It seemed like years ago. At this thought, I wonder how long I was unconscious. Memories of those moments wash over me in a rush. _The crash._ _Where's Mike? Where's Angela?_ I can't catch my breath fast enough.

"Are you ok?" she asks noticing. My breath hitches as I try to keep composed. I nod. She glares without a word, waiting.

I shake my head furiously, "No… where are my friends?" I ask lifting off the table slightly. "Are they gone? Dead? _Where are they?"_ my voice desperate as I grab her coat, staining it with red. She struggles to keep straight.

She watches me bewilderedly, "I don't…know" she responds after a moment. She eases my hands off of her. "I don't know, Isabella." She backs away and continues her work.

Tears flow from my tired eyes to my temples. _They must know. I have to find them._

"How long has it been?" I ask in a small voice. I look at the dark ceiling and she doesn't respond. "_How long?" _I look at her. Anger rising.

"Four weeks," she whispers. Her eyes elsewhere.

All the air escapes my lungs. I whimper into my hand.

Blood rushes to my head, filling my veins in protest. I can't hold back the sobs any longer. My body quivers. _A month._

This long and I've been here...under their will. And no one knows. _Charlie. He must be devastated._

She comes to my side and quickly pulls my hand away from face. Blood smears my lips and cheeks. My other fist clenches and connects with the metal by my side furiously. My legs follow. My eyes tightly shut. I scream.

"Please…" she pleads in a whisper. Her hands shake. Her plead to calm me is as weak as her whisper. I fold into myself trying to find release from the agony erupting in my chest. "Isabella, please. You'll hurt yourself further. You're still weak."

I'm not aware of what's happening around me. Two different sets of warm strong hands restrain my legs and torso.

"Hold her, please," Alice says above my screams.

I shove away at the hands and they only grip tighter. My eyes are blurred as I look up into blank green eyes again. _Again. _

My anger flares. "You…you did this!" My hands grip his shirt. I push. My fists slam against his chest. He doesn't move. I dig my nails into his neck, face, anywhere. My teeth clenched. His lips white in anger. He doesn't flinch. He allows this and I push harder. I connect my blood stained palm against his face. Again and again. Nothing.

He just stares. I scream.

He finally restrains my arms as I feel a prick on my neck. I gasp. The numbing flows through me instantly. My limbs lock.

"Take her down the hall." Alice speaks. She sounds far away. My ears grow mute. My eyes roll to the back of my head. I'm in a foggy cloud, floating.

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My eyes are heavy. I struggle to open them. Silence.

The moonlight is eerie in a dark room. I keep still as I look around with my eyes only. _Where am I? _The scent of the sheets is different. I dreamed of a time long ago where I was safe in my room. My bed. My vanity at the far end of the wall close to the bay windows decorated in white linen curtains. I watched them flow in the breeze. Calm.

But this is different. My stomach clenches when I realize I'm not home. _Home. _My whole being yearns for home.

Windows from floor to ceiling glisten with rain—the dark night in a fog. They stretch along as walls. Carpet covers the floor all around. The vast space swallows me up, making me feel small. My heart pounds. I don't move in inch.

I feel a presence behind me as I lie on my side. I fear turning. The wool sheets heavy and wrongly comforting over my shaking body. I'm buried in warmth but under a cold sweat. I clench my fists and notice my palms are clean. My face is clean. My blood is gone. The rubber that once covered me is replaced with cotton. White sleeves cover my arms. The fabric runs fitted below my throat to my thighs. My back partially exposed. My hair tucked in a hood. I furrow my brows but feel comfort in this odd attire. I force my legs to stay still. I want to reach for my neck but I'm too afraid.

Hours seem to pass and with every second my paranoia heightens. There's only silence and I argue with my inner fear to still. I chance a look around me. I lift my head and scan the area exposed to my peripheral. Nothing.

I move to my back slowly. The bed keeps silent to my relief. I barely stir under the wool. My heart in my throat. I feel the pulsing in my neck wound but ignore it.

No one is behind me.

I exhale. I whip my head all around me. _I'm alone. _I sit up, gripping the wool on my lap hard. I sit still and wait.

The door to the room is far. A slit of light glows from under it. I argue with my conscience to grant me courage.

With shaking hands, I pull the wool off of me and crawl to the bottom of the bed—stopping midway to hear for any sounds. I reach the end and look at the floor. Like a scared child, terrified of what lies beneath the bed, I hesitate. I can only hear my erratic breathing.

I stand. One foot at a time. My legs shake. I take a step. Nothing stirs around me.

I stroll closer. I pull at the hood from around my hair. It obstructs the view. I steal a peek behind me. It falls from around my nape to my bare back as I reach for the door.

My fingers search blindly for the knob. They grope frantically. I peal my eyes away from over my shoulder and squint to find it. A staggered gasp constricts my throat. _There's no knob. _My fingers run along the seams and back. Nothing.

I step back. I turn to see only the bed sitting in the middle of an oval room, surrounded by windows. Not a chair. Not a mirror or a second door to be found.

I walk back to the bed and plop on the edge. My hands fidgeting. _There has to be a way._

I observe every angle and curve of the room and I stop. _The ceiling. _

I stand. My hand reaches up to follow a vent. It's too far up and I can't reach. I climb the bed to stand on it. I reach again. Not close enough.

I climb off and walk around the back of the bed as an idea turns in my mind. I brace my shoulders and arms at the back of the tall white plush headboard. I push.

It inches away. I sigh in relief with the movement. I shift and push again.

Content with my effort, I climb the bed again and push at the seams of the vent. The square is big enough for a human to climb through. I push but it doesn't budge.

I peak around me one last time before pushing with my shoulder and hands…hard.

I hear a crack. The weak ceiling panel gives way. To my immense relief there is no sound. I shove the piece away into a dark pit.

I wipe the sweat away from my forehead as I contemplate where it leads. My heart pleads for an escape. _It has to lead somewhere._

I stretch my arms out and pull myself up struggling. A cold draft prickles my skin. I see nothing but a dark narrow tunnel. My knees are last as they finally touch the surface. I crawl in deeper.

Claustrophobia tenses my limbs. I clench my eyes and breathe pausing. I'm encased in dust filled narrow walls. It clings to my clammy palms. I try and shake it off as it weaves around my fingers. A faint blue light brightens the space from a source far away. It enables me to see the spider webs angled over corners, empty to my relief.

I will my knees to push farther. The panel under me cracks almost inaudibly. _Shit. _My weight pushes the surface. I chance a second stride and the crack grows louder. The air is thin. I can't catch a breath deeply.

My hand moves to take the next step. My eyes widen. I gasp. An echoing thud cracks though the small space. The ceiling panel under my palm tears as a long shiny blade stabs between my fingers—missing me by a hair. I flinch snatching my hand away.

_They found me. _I only hear silence.

I jolt. I move to rush forward as fast as I can. _Thud. _Another blade by my arm. I flinch back. I almost scream, clamping a hand over my mouth.

I snap my head behind me. The hole is still vacant.

Silence.

I crawl back a step when I hear one of the blades in front of me being removed. It disappears. I freeze.

My heart thumps at my throat. _It's coming back. _I blink watching the second blade being pulled out of its firm wedge….slowly. It too disappears.

My chin quivers. I step back anticipating the next set of stabs. _But where? _I crawl back another stride. Deafening silence. Nothing moves for a long stretched moment. I try and calm my erratic heart and strain to keep still. Sweat running down my temples. Drops land on the back of my hand. Some dissolve on the panel under me. My hair falls over my shoulders, dangling in waves. I focus on the locks and hold my breath. I wait.

My arms begin to shake with fatigue. My knees ache against the hard surface. I curl my bare toes beneath me. The silence is excruciating.

I look back at the hole again and it's still clear. I'm waiting for a hand to creep in, a face—anything to startle my heart out of my chest. I look forward and attempt another step.

_THUD._

I bang against the top of the tunnel in fright. The tip of the blade ended a millimeter from my chest. I scramble back. My breathing labored. My head grows light from holding my breath.

I scream.

Fingers wrap around my ankle. I'm falling.

My body tenses. My arms shoot out to hold on. My fingers scrap the edge. They slip. Everything slows.

I bounce on the bed on my back. I scramble over the wool sheet and grip the headboard. But I'm dragged again to the edge by my ankle. I scream again. My vocal cords burn and strain from my paranoia. I'm pinned.

I open my eyes to a dangling pendant in a chain swaying above my face. I focus beyond it. _Edward. _He's kneeling above me. His palms holding himself up beside my head.

He doesn't speak. I clench my fists together at my chest. His face trembles in anger. I feel the air escaping his flared nostrils flowing over my face. I watch every faint movement of his face in the grays of the shadows. His expression changing from furious to blank to… something I can't read. _Torn?_

I gaze. I really see him now. I've been fighting and fighting my way out of this nightmare and I never caught a glimpse of who these people are.

Though his eyes are intense, I can't look away. Though my panic clutches my chest and throat, I can't look away. _Who is he?_ I immediately shake away the stupor—shake it away to a hazy place in my mind. I'll forget in a mere second. Because right now, as I watch his lips part slightly and his brows furrow, all I feel is danger, alarm, and terror. And it runs deep in my bones, deep and cold. Like his heart must be.

Slowly, he moves away. I inhale sharply. Electricity shoots up to the nape of my neck, prickling the fine hairs over my skin when I feel a single finger brushing past my bare thigh. A sharp edge of his nail scratching a faint line towards the end. He steps away.

Metal gleams with the little bit of light in the room. He flicks and flips the knife around his fingers and tucks it in his waistband. The other follows.

I drop my eyes to follow his movements, wide eyed. He pauses there for a moment not moving. Expectant.

I sit up slowly, my legs dangling off the edge. My ankle stiff with the lingering grasp of his rough hand. No doubt, it'll bruise.

His arms cross over his chest. His biceps jutting out, stretches the fabric of his black sleeves. Shadow covers half of his face making him look far more frightening. The moonlight hits just enough to make the ink lining his neck dark against his pale skin. I see my mark on him from where I sit. I quietly wonder how my lips touched that part of him. Any part of him. I beat him. Slapped his face again and again. To have had the courage…mind-boggling. I shake the stupor once again. He is waiting.

I don't know what he wants.

I move my palms to the bed and grip the wool. His eyes shift to my movement and back to me. I continue.

Pulling my legs on the bed, I drag myself up towards the middle. I turn and scramble to the pillow. I pull the wool over my lap, to my chest, feeling like a chastised child.

Like a statute, he stands there frozen. Watching.

I ease my way down to my back and stiffly pull the covers to my chin. My back tense on the mattress. He visibly relaxes. I can't stare in his eyes any longer. My eyes squeeze shut.I turn away, rolling to my side.

I hear my pulse through my pressed ear against the pillow. It's ragged. I pant warm breaths under the heavy quilt. My fingers twitch over my mouth. I'm certain they haven't stopped shaking since I've woken up. My nerves trigger a time when I took pills for this. I hold a whimper when I remember who it came from. The doctor had yet to show his face again. I wince at the fact, feeling sick.

I'm quickly taken from this glitch of a thought. I can't escape the presence still lingering behind me. He hasn't moved.

I curl my legs under me further. The sound rustles over the sheets breaks the silence, easing the heavy tension I feel. I haven't heard his steps. At all. _What does he want?_

I open my eyes again and stare out the windows. They quickly turn to look to the corner of my sight. He's out of reach. It's like being a child again and waking up from a bad dream. You're too afraid to run to your parent's room because, surely, the monster is standing at the foot of your bed. You don't move a muscle.

I am not a child and this is not a dream. My breath hitches.

Shifting my gaze to the windows, I think of how fitting the rain falling is to my mood. It mirrors the fog and confusion in my mind. _How did I end up here? _

The environment shifts. The single knob-less door slams shut. I start, holding my mouth closed almost painfully.

I sit up. My shoulders drop at the relief of his exit. Tears stream down, escaping my heavy lids.

I yelp.

He's still standing there.

He's leaning against the door. His head down cast, watching the carpeted floor. His hands clenched at his sides—one lower than the other as his right shoulder dips. His dark jeans fade into the shadow, leaving only his upper body exposed to the moonlight. His long sleeve shirt fitted around his light muscular torso and chest. A slit of his unbuttoned shirt shows a bit of his pale skin. A speck of white pokes out from underneath it. The second shirt looking like a piece of saint on this fury of a demon.

I watch motionless.

He lifts his head, revealing the hollow of his exposed throat. I can't look in his eyes.

"You're wasting my time," he says simply. His voice is calm. But his nostrils are flared. He's angry. "I will not hold back next time. I will hurt you."

I sit up. I scan my eyes over his height. "You already have." My voice comes out clear—surprising me. Something about him makes my thoughts come out in words and slip out of my mouth. I can't stop them.

He looks slightly taken aback by my response—for responding at all. His brows furrow. "I've barely had the pleasure. Nothing comes close to what I'd like to do."

"Why did you drag me here?" I ask gripping the wool blanket. Anger bubbles in me.

"You wanted to die, is that it?" His jaw sets tightly. "I can do you the favor right now…if that's what you want." I don't respond. He tilts his head to the side glaring at me through narrow eyes. "Better yet, I'll find Jake and let him do as he _pleases_. How's that?"

I inhale deeply at the stab, looking in his eyes. The corner of his lip lifts.

He lifts off the door and walks closer. "Poor Isabella. Shameful." My lips part. I can't breathe. _He saw…everything._

"You were in danger long before that night. And you? Oblivious." he continues, pausing a few feet from the bed. "Do you remember that night, Isabella?" he asks, his words frigid, "I remember it well. In fact, I remember many other nights."

"You followed me…" I whisper. He doesn't respond.

I blink tears that spill down my face. I shake my head, closing my eyes briefly. "Since you were there, you must know what happened to them…my friends." I look up at him. "Where are they?"

"They weren't my target," he answers stiffly.

I drop my head, my chin against my chest. Tears still spilling. No one will give me a straight answer. It's been a month and I don't know what happened after that night. They saved my life. This is how they're repaid.

I grow angry again. I gaze at him from under my lashes. "You saved me but I'll never be grateful. I'm imprisoned here. You could've saved them. They helped me when I needed it most. Where were you then?" I shake my head, watching his jaw tighten to a sharp line, "You unquestionably failed."

He chuckles darkly, shaking his head.

I gasp. Within a second, he's jolting me in his grip. My eyes widen. He pulls me by my chin, His fingers spread over my cheek—his thumb on the other. His other hand grips the nape of my neck, pulling my hair there. I'm suddenly on my knees on the bed. He's standing, hovering over me at the edge. He breathes hard. "I should've left you to die," he says in a calm whisper an inch from my face. The tone of his voice sounds piercing. I shiver.

He watches me intently. He lets go slowly. His fingers twitch on my skin. His other hand tangles in my hair. He grazes the strands free. I fall back on the bed wincing from the pain.

He marches out of the room leaving the door open. Before I can take a breath he's back…with a chair. He slams it on the ground. I jump. His legs straddle it, leaning his arms over the back. "Go to sleep. If I hear anything out of you, I'll slice a finger off," he says eyeing me down. I believe him.

I ease my way back to the pillow and hide my sore face under the blanket. I let the angry tears flow. There's no way I'll sleep. I lie there for hours feeling him watching me and feeling the places his hands touched pulsing in pain.

To my own dismay, I slip into a tense slumber.

I dream of blood, swaying chains and jade eyes. His scent is tantalizing.

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**A/N: **Review if you would've bitten him harder.


	9. Chapter 8: Bare

**A/N:** Are you still out there? Sigh. I apologize profusely. These past 6 weeks have been just unbelievable. I came back from a funeral, 'nuff said. Please read back to last chap to catch up again. I know you can forget. This one should be fun. *crossing fingers* Let me know if it is. I'll reply! I see a lot of new readers/fav/adds out there. THANK YOU! Hope you enjoy the ride!

Last but not least: **HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROBERT PATTINSON!** The man of our wet lemonade dreams. Rob, (if you're reading this and you're prob not cuz you're getting your much deserved birthday sex *jealous*) just wanted to say you're one year older... which makes me less of a cougar—until I turn 30 and die. Thanks for ruining my life, adding an extra layer of dust on my books on their shelves, and running my phone bill high. I think you owe me money. 'ppreciate it! Love you to pieces. KThxBai!

**I don't own Twilight.** I just own a Mini and my FF reading device—iPhone.

|:::::[-]:::i):::| — Just loosen it.

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_Sound: Massive Attack - Black Milk_

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**Chap 8 – Bare**

Soft fingertips. My mother had pretty hands. I'd hold her hand and run a fingertip over her long nails. The pale pink polish was perfect over every rounded end. Feminine and soft, yet strong. They kept my hands tightly folded in hers. Her hands were one of many things I didn't inherit from her. But they were the one thing I wish I had. Just to see a bit of her in me.

Every stroke of her palms on my arm or hair would wake me every morning. And I couldn't help but awake without a struggle. I knew the day would be special. She would do that.

_Is it her again?_

I'm dreaming of her. Her hands are gentle. But this time she squeezes my small hand in hers. Her knuckles turn white from the tension. Her fear radiates. I feel it through her palm. She's trying to tell me something.

My mind defogs from its slumber.

Her hands turn to rough ones. _It isn't her. _

They trail over my hip, thigh, leg, and ankle. Rough fingers wrap around it. A thumb runs circles over the bone there.

My eyes struggle to open. The bright sun burns a red glow through my eyelids. The dream vanishes. My ankle twitches. Rough fingers let go.

But they appear again. They lift my chin off the warm pillow. Cold air seeps over my warm redden skin. My lids tighten.

Right…left…right again. A palm turns my face side to side. The rough thumb moves in a circle again—this time over my cheek. My eyes flutter open.

I gasp.

"Shh, quiet," Edward hushes. He hovers over me perched on the side of the bed. A hint of mint in his breath hits my eyes making them blink. My chest tightens. _This_ isn't part of the dream. I watch his lips close inches away. His eyes focused but not on mine. I watch his pale jade iris's moving over my cheeks and chin. His hand moves to my neck. His hair dips over his forehead. A wild lock hovers between us. I watch it moves from my deep breaths.

I forgot where I am. My stomach tightens.

Gently, he pushes the taped gauze away from the cut he shaped with his knife. I hiss. His finger pokes too closely to the opening. The back of my hand instinctively lifts. I slap the side of his away. Just as quickly, he slaps back at my knuckles harder. This provokes an automatic reflex at the flick from my wrist. Our hands fumble in a fight.

I blink at the sudden movement. He grabs my palm and bends it back. My fingers point towards my face. He squeezes and elicits pain from my wrist. "Ah!" I shout squeezing my eyes shut.

He doesn't speak. His face is hard as he watches me squirm.

"Ok, ok!" I plead, my brows nit with anger. He lets go. His fingers find my wound again and continue examining. Unaffected. I exhale rubbing my wrist. _Asshole._

I watch him from the corner of my eye, wondering why he's doing this. The weight of his torso is practically on mine to reach my side. My heart doesn't fail as it races in anticipation of what he'll do next. I think of every vulgar curse that suits him perfectly…and repeat.

I'm on my stomach wondering how I was flipped so fast. The wool sheet half covering me twists around my legs. His hand runs over on my bare back. He pushes the hood away. His warm palm brushes my hair up, revealing the back of my neck. His other thumb rubs firm circles over my nape.

He sighs.

"Up," he commands suddenly. I feel the bed shift. I turn my head only to look up at him. He's standing beside the bed with the same clothes from the night before. Knives still hitched to his side. His hair looks tousled beyond control. It looks on fire from the sunlight coming in through the damned windows. I squint. But the circles under his eyes are obvious and deep. He never slept.

He bites down on the tip of his tongue with a sharp tooth. His patience is thinning as his fists dig in his waist. He launches forward. I shriek when he grabs me by my sides and yanks me out of bed. My feet slam against his legs. My back to his chest. I try and pry his hands off my waist. He carries me towards the door.

_The door. _I stop fighting as I watch alarmed. Finally, I can see what's behind the knob-less door. My hands linger on his fist as he carries me towards it. His speed causes me to brace my weight on his chest, my head hovering over his shoulder. I blink away the strands of his hair obstructing my view from my right eye.

A narrow hallway. I look around slightly confused. It's illuminated brightly like a corridor I once ran through. Frosted glass double doors stand tall to the right. He turns the elaborate Ivory handle and walks through, nearly dropping me on my feet. I stagger.

A bathroom. And it's fancy. My brows furrow as I scan the marble surfaces. The walls painted lightly in grey over sleek dark marble slates running from the walls to the floors. Bowls sit on cabinets with faucets coming from the walls. A modern metal tub with hard lines and silver studded trimming looks masculine but handsome as it sits in the middle of the room. But my eyes only find a window high above the commode. I wonder where it leads. My fingers twitch.

I feel his hand on my bare back. He pushes me deeper. I turn to glare at him having had enough of his rough handling. He sees my silent objection and takes a step closer in challenge. I step back.

"Make it quick," he says, his lips tight. He stands there staring and after a moment leaves. He closes the door behind him. I can still see his silhouette through the frosted glass. _How am I supposed to…?_

I huff turning back to the room. My hands shake as I turn back to his form. He stands frozen. I look away and stop when I see my reflection in the mirror in front of me. I walk closer, bringing my hands to my face. I look so different. It's still me but there's something new. I stare at the lost girl with hollow eyes, sunken cheeks and dry lips. She looks like she's been through hell…and still trying to find her way out.

I run my fingers through my tangled hair. I instantly remember the crash. _I must have cuts, bruises or scars. _

I peak a look at the door as I lift the cotton dress up over my torso, tucking it under my braless chest. I feel my side for the knife wound from a month ago. A small reddish line is the only proof that it ever happened. My eyes sting with the memory. But it's the smallest mark on me. My ribs have faint bruises on them. They faded long ago. _Did I break them? _

I turn in a circle, seeing faint scratches here and there. All faded long ago. I catch a line on the side of my forehead and lean in to check. I had stitches there once too.

I was fixed. I stare blankly at myself. _How bad was it?_

I hear him stir outside and start, turning. He stays put. I walk towards the commode. I cringe, biting my lip. _What if he barges in? _This is like a nightmare where there are thousands of stalls but not one toilet works…and everyone watches.

I take a deep breath and pull my cotton panties down. My toes bob on the marbled floor impatiently, grimacing at the loud stream hitting the ceramic bowl. I stare at his form with anxiety.

I sigh in relief as I flush when I'm done. I look up at the window but it's too tall. In a rush I carefully stand on either end of the toilet lid to get a better look. I glace back to check the door. He hasn't moved.

Outside is desolate and quiet. I don't see anything but a forest of trees down a grassy horizon. The sun shines brilliantly over them. Their leaves rustle softly. A blue sky peeks around clouds. There are no signs of buildings or sky scrapers—anything to pin point. _Where am I?_

I look as far down as I can, my forehead against the glass. I might be able to jump. The window is big enough to climb through. I reach for the lock.

"Here, let me get that for you." His hand appears over mine.

I scream.

_Slam. _My foot slips into the toilet. I loose my balance as I turn to his angry green eyes. I'm falling.

He stands still watching me fall. I crash to the hard marble. My foot still in the bowl. Water sprawls all over the floor and his sneakers. My leg and the hem of my dress drenched. I look up in horror on my elbow. _Massive fuck up._

He looks down at the water on his sneakers and his lip twitches in anger. He lifts his eyes and glares under his lashes. "You better have flushed."

I'm panting. I straighten, pulling my foot out of the toilet. More water pours out. It aches. I don't speak.

"Get up," he says calmly. I obey. I can't look at his heated face. "I'm leaving the door open. You have ten minutes to clean up."

I look up. "What?..."

"I'm already counting," he says walking to the door.

My heart freezes. "No, you're not," I snap back.

He stops and turns slowly. His head tilts as his eyes narrow. The tense pause is palpable. "What was that?"

I swallow heavy trying to find the courage, "…You are _not _leaving the door open."

He slowly walks closer, his eyes to the floor. He stops when he's hovering over me. He looks up. I shift my eyes to each of his waiting. My fingers fidget over the wet cotton hem. The drips echo on the hard floor. "I'm not here to take requests or orders from you. I give orders," he finally speaks, "You now have nine minutes."

"No." I focus on the silver chain around his neck. I can't look in his eyes.

"Eight minutes," he responds in warning. His voice louder. I shake my head.

"_Seven."_

I cut my eyes to his. "There's no way in hell!"

"_Six!"_ His jaw set like stone. His palm hovers over his knife.

"You go to hell!"

"_Five minutes!"_

We're yelling over each other. Both clenching our own fists. My face is heated and red. His lips pale.

"_Now, Swan!"_

"_Fuck you!"_ I yell.

Silence.

He freezes staring at me. His blank expression unsettling. For a long torturous moment we stand there eyeing each other down. I keep my face as hard as my strength lets me. But my insides are cramping.

I hear a clip unclasp. His knife. "Hold up your hand." His calm demand freezes my spine. I instantly remember his words from last night. _I'll slice your finger off._

I swallow hard.

"Hold it up," he says between his teeth. He opens his palm out to me, waiting. I press my lips together.

He leans in when I don't comply. I step away. He launches forward. I stagger back as he races after me. "No!" I plead. I pull my hands into fists and hide them behind me. I hit the wall. No escape.

He presses his chest on mine and reaches behind me. His long fingers reach my wrist, quickly finding my fisted hand. He yanks it. "No…" I whimper, my voice shaky.

He fights with my tight fist. My knuckles white. My thumb locked inside my palm. A trick I learned since I was little. No kid in my neighborhood was ever able to pull my fingers free in a game. I use all my strength to hold tight knowing this is far from a game.

Using his thumb, he squeezes hard on a knuckle. The pressure weakens my grasp. I hiss. This is one trick I never anticipated.I groan between my teeth. It throbs. I can't hold on any longer. _He'll cut me. It's not worth it._

"Ok, I'll do it!" I shout over his dipped shoulder, "I'll do it!"

He watches me from his position. His hand freezes. The light from the window brightens his eyes and hair. Looking more appealing than his terrorizing demeanor.

He backs away. I catch my breath.

He examines me for an awkward moment and turns away.

I watch his retrieving back. My nerves running wildly through all my limbs, "…But you have to take your clothes off too!" I shout in a rushed voice. He freezes.

My heart is in my throat. I'm wracking my brain trying to figure out which nerve made my mouth speak. I straighten my shoulders in a dare. He turns around.

"There's no way in _hell_ I'm stripping if you don't!" I continue. I can't stop_._

The corner of his lip lifts. He laughs.

I watch transfixed at this new foreign face. He looks…different. Normal. Human. I don't blink watching him run his free hand through his hair. He twirls the shiny knife at his other side. The blade scratches past his jeans. His laugh is intoxicating.

He continues with his fit. Minutely it turns malicious. His fingers on his hair grip it tighter and tighter. A thick vein plumps in his forehead. His lips form over his straight teeth in a snarl. Normal is gone.

I hold my breath.

"_Your hand_…" he growls. He lets go of his hair.

He moves forward. I gasp.

"I'll tell Alice!" I yell franticly, my eyes shut tightly. "I'll tell her…I'll tell her about the bruise on my ankle!" Her name passed through my mind like a flash. I'm panting and waiting for him to take the last step towards me.

I knew he was examining me for a reason. He's nervous. He's nervous they'll see the bruises he's made on me. I remember how angry Alice became of my neck wound. _Please… _I plead internally.

I hear a loud frustrated growl. I jump, opening my eyes. I watch, hoping he rips his own hair out of his scalp. He raises his fists in the air. The blade reflects the sun off the window. He punches the wall close by. Loud bags of kicks follow on an innocent cabinet.

Edward Masen is having a tantrum.

I press my lips together. My relief and pride swells._ I got him._

"_You_…" he hisses, pointing the knife a hairline from my face. I flinch.

He steps back and doesn't continue. He glares at me with angry green bulbs. He walks backwards towards the door panting.

He slams the knife on the wall with such force. I stare wide eyed. It sticks.

I gulp.

He moves around the bathroom hastily. I watch his every move. He grabs a plush bench from beside him and slams it on the floor by the doorway. He yanks a cabinet open. Towels. He tosses two beside the tub.

He turns to the tub. His hair is in disarray as he bends to turn the hot water on. The cold one next. Steam eases to the ceiling. The room grows warm instantly. My skin prickles. My body suddenly asks for that comfort of warm water on skin.

I watch the water drizzle in like a miniature waterfall. I'm distracted for a second before I notice him walking towards the door. _He's leaving… _Relief eases my entire body. I sigh resting my chin on my chest.

The door slams shut. I grin slightly to myself.

The clink of a belt buckle tenses me to the bones. My eyes widen. I peek under my lashes. _Shit…_

I want to cry.

He's standing by the doorway, his back towards me. The bench sits behind his thighs. The steam rises to his height. I cut my eyes to his reflection on the mirror beside him. I can see his front to his waist. His jaw is set sharply. His long fingers move as he unfastens the metal rectangular buckle on his black jeans. _My_ knees buckle.

_Fuck…this is going to happen._

His buckle loosens and hangs free. He moves to his waistband, removing the second blade. He tosses it on the cabinet with the double sinks. The clank echoes through the room. I start.

He reaches behind his neck, digging at the back of his collar. He tugs. At the tips of his fingers he holds a handle. He slides it out. Slowly, a longer blade appears. My eyes widen.

I watch as the seemingly never-ending blade slides up over his head. It has to measure the length of three small knives. The double blade so thin, it hid along his back unnoticed. He whirls the handle skillfully in his hand to his front. The air cuts audibly in a swift. This blade joins the smaller one by the sink with another loud clank. I stare. I barely register him pulling out the strap where it was hidden.

He sits on the bench and bends to his right leg, lifting the cuff. _A gun. _My hands find my mouth. I press over my lips hard. I hold back any sound from seeping out. He unfastens the velcro and the strap loosens. He lifts it and slips the white handle out of the strap. It looks to be made of a thick Ivory tusk. The black barrel appears inch by inch. It shines in the sunlight. Heavy. Long. Dangerous. He sets it down gingerly beside his right foot on the floor. Quick access.

I stare at this new addition as he unties his black sneakers and slips them off. Socks follow. My eyes move to his bare toes and heels. His skin is pale in contrast to the floor and the piece of metal to his right. They shift as he stands again. My eyes move to his broad back. My thumping heart drowns out the sounds from the tub in my ears. I'm trapped in a room with this insidious stranger—stripping bare.

I cut my eyes back and forth between his back and his reflection. He looks stern, focused…_and pissed._

His arms rise over his shoulders. His biceps flex with the stretch. He grabs the collar of his shirt behind him…and pulls.

Holy shit.

I blink. My eyes trip over every line, muscle, spec…_birthmark _on his bare skin. I gawk.

He turns.

I exhale. All the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh.

It isn't the vigor of his frame, his height or his stare that captures me. It isn't the evidence through every mark and scar of past struggles and mishandling of his body. It isn't just the lean and straight posture he still carries despite what he's probably been through…what he's done. It isn't about any of these things at all. It's the dark intricate tattoo owning half of his upper body. I can't escape it as I stare breathless with parted lips.

The tattoo runs from his shoulder blade to the front of his chest. Wild vines whirl over his peck, up his neck. I never noticed how it even touches his throat and over his Adam's apple. His shoulder is the darkest, as it's the point where the vines begin. His upper arm is covered down the inside to his elbow. A single vine whirls around his forearm. It's like a foreign organism clinging to his body. Clinging to a beautiful furious body.

My bite mark. I see it clearly now. The room is dim with the bit of sunlight pouring through, but I see it. It so happens to line up with two vines perfectly. It found its territory and blended in with the countless marks on him. This mark will scar, and when it does it'll have its story as the others have theirs. But I'll always know I put that mark on him.

His deep breaths define multiple muscles in his abs, his shoulders wide and broad as he let's his arms rest by his sides. I forget to look at his face. The slight clenching of his fists brings me back to present. My throat constricts. Silence presses between us. The tub finally fills.

His hand moves. I follow with my eyes. He grips the metal buckle and yanks it off. The leather gives way and unfastens through every loop, ending with a sounding whip. He opens his palm and the leather snakes to the floor like a serpent.

The trails of veins under his skin run up his hands and bare arms. A trail of hair disappears beyond his zipper. His long fingers find the top of his jeans. With a swift stroke, he unbuttons the fly.

"You have five seconds to get in the tub." He breaks the silence. I jump, finally looking into his eyes. They are dark with fury.

I shift my legs, trying to wake them from their frozen state. My foot sole unsticks off the marble floor. My knees ache faintly from being locked in position. The dampness of the toilet water runs down my leg from my hem.

"Two seconds, Swan," he snaps. His patience wavered long ago.

I drop my shaking hands from my mouth. The hem feels cold and damp on my fingers. My palms feel hot at this point. I hold my breath and look at the floor by the tub. _If only I was closer to the towels…_

I shimmy the hem mid thigh. To my relief, he turns away. I exhale the breath I've held. I hear his zipper. I wince.

I walk the few steps to the tub, lifting the hem over my panties, to my navel. I sneak a peek at his back. Still turned. He hooks his thumbs on his waist band. I follow his movement with my eyes. I grasp the edge of the tub and lower myself to sit on the edge.

His hands hover there. I turn my eyes to my peripheral, his reflection still visible. His face is slightly turned towards the mirror. _If _I_ can see him… _My breathing picks up at the thought. My legs shake. I look back at his thumbs. I wait.

I wait for the moment he pulls so I can pull too. When he's occupied I'll jump in.

He pulls.

I lift and yank. _Hurry._

My hands are frantic. I pull the cotton dress over my shoulders. The high collar sticks to my chin. _Shit! _I pull hard stretching high above me. My eyes just see white. I grab the handful from my chin and tug. The material rips soundly. Off.

I swing my legs into the water and crouch.

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Water ripples. Shadows and glistening specks of light lag around the floors and walls. I watch reflections of sun and water fusing in a dance of rainbows over the ceilings.

Stillness.

He sighs.

I sigh too.

I don't want to look up. I know he's sitting just three feet away. His back still towards me.

_That did not go as planned. _I look down at the balled up cotton dress on the floor and I cringe. Ten minutes ago, I smacked it on the floor with an angry fist. _Bitch._ I want to rip it in three, burn it…anything to avenge myself. I cringe again. I lean on my arm that's perched on the porcelain edge. My wet palm on my forehead.

Ten minutes have already passed. I'm still sitting in warm water that, even in this state, is soothing me. The splashes of water and drips are the only sounds—and our occasional sighs.

I fold into myself, bringing my knees to my chest. My panties help as barrier from the hard porcelain underneath.

I washed as best as I could. At first I just sat here, frozen…not knowing how to start. I felt him reach down to his right from his bench. I know he's holding the gun in his hand now. He has been for a while. When I first heard a piece shift from it, I freaked. I grabbed the soap.

I dunked my hair after. I washed it with whatever was in the small bottle sitting on the shelf hanging off the edge.

The water I'm sitting in, my hair and skin…it all smells like him.

My eyelashes flutter. I'm fighting not to look up but the curiosity is eating at me. I shift. I submerge in the water again. My hair floats slowly through it. I watch the ripples stir above me, holding my breath. I haven't taken a bath since I was little. I watch an air bubble floating out of my mouth as I try to remember. For a second, I pretend it's twenty years ago and I'm nine. I'm sitting in Calgon bubble bath I begged Charlie to buy me. I'd swim in it and smelled mom. My heart skips remembering. _I really wish it would take me away. _

I see movement from above.

I panic. I sit up, covering my chest.

My eyes instantly find his back… and his ass. _I looked. _My eyes instantly glue.

He's slouching, sitting on his shirt. His elbows rest on his knees. He sighs.

My teeth bite down on my lip. I sink further into the water up to my nose. I think the water warmed a few degrees as a blush creeps up my neck. This is by far the most bizarre situation I've ever found myself in. He is…

_What is he?_ I don't know for sure.

Birthmarks form an interesting pattern over his skin. He's slightly tanned, not completely pale, making the ink seem darker. I chance a glance over his tattoo and follow every curve of the vines.

But something doesn't seem right. My brows nit together. My curiosity deepens. I lean in. The water stirs. The vines almost seem…alive. They aren't just needled in with ink. They look slightly raised off his skin. Every vine is raised flesh.

My fingers itch to touch one. _A scar._ I look in horror as I notice more and more spreading though the intricate details. I gasp.

He shifts on the bench. I cover my mouth. I was too loud.

I move back to my spot. _What happened to him?_

"Are you done?" His voice echoes through the space. I instantly cover myself when his face turns slightly.

"Uh…yes," my voice cracks. I clear my throat.

I reach for the towel beside the tub but I'm short a hand length. I sigh nervously and shift in the tub to reach it. The towel is off the ground and in my hands. I look up. He reached for me from his seat. He watches me from above with blank greens. I look away whispering my thanks.

At this point, I don't care to dip the towel in the water as I cover myself to stand. His arm stretches to reach the second one. He stands next.

My magnet eyes shift to his toned thighs up and over the dip of his lower back. I want to slap my eyes with a palm the second he shifts to turn. I fumble. My ankles go weak. My breathing rags with nerves as the water swishes around my legs. I look away. I occupy myself by climbing out of the tub.

"Sit," he says, wrapping the towel low around his narrow waist. Too low. It dips over a hip. He walks to my side and pulls me by my elbow with the hand that isn't holding up a knot of towel. His body heat radiates off his chest warming my goosed skin. My eyes flicker to his tattoo at this proximity. _Definitely scars._

For a while my mind fills with thoughts of vines as I'm sitting on the bench over his shirt. He's bathing. In my water.

I shiver suddenly, wrapping my arms around my torso. I hear fresh water filling the tub and falling over skin.

Hesitantly, I glance at the mirror to my left. My stomach plummets. At this angle I can see everything. I cringe watching his hair matted to his forehead turning dark from the water. His eyes are closed as he's leaning back.

I will definitely burn the dress.

I look away before he notices and my eyes lock on the weapons beside me. I quickly turn to find the gun on the floor to my right. It's not there. I stiffen instantly when I hear him cocking the metal behind me. A loud thud on the floor beside the tub follows. He settles it there as a clear warning.

I sit straight and tense griping the small towel hardly covering me until he's done. He finally steps out of the tub.

Before long, he's at my side pulling me by the elbow again. His towel casually hangs low around his waist and mine tight around my white knuckles. He leads me back to the room.

I stand there not knowing what to do. I don't have clothes.

"Stay here," he warns pointing with one finger. I look away. My teeth clatter together from a cold breeze coming from the doorway. He pauses for a moment before he leaves and comes back again. I turn to see a towel floating in the air as it lands on my shoulder. I catch it. "I'll be back with clothes."

I stare at his retreating glistening back dumbfounded. _What was that about? _I wrap the towel around my shoulders surprised at his gesture, feeling warmer instantly. I sit on the bed and wait.

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A/N:** Review if you think pervward took a peek through the mirror. Next chap sooner than soon. I'm back on the horse to ride this faster. Wow, that sounded dirty. Can't be helping it. :-/ R&I banner of his Ivory guns at my profile if you'd like a lil looky of what he keeps in his pocket when he's not excited to see you. ;-)


	10. Chapter 9: Memory

**HAI! Ok, liar here *points to self * Said it would be sooner than soon but sooner became later. Had to rewrite most of the chap cuz Beta is a smart woman and pushes me till the word doc isn't full of 'duh'. :-) Worked out….I hope? YOU tell me.**

**I don't own Twilight. I just own a Mini and my FF reading device—iPhone.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — Look, I made a belt.**

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_**Sound: Evanescence – Bring me to life**_

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**Chapter 9 – Memory**

Goosebumps prickles my skin. It's so quiet I only hear myself breathing. But my insides tremble.

I watch the sun brighten my skin. The fine hairs rise to attention as a new surge of cold flows through me. My hair trickles down my back and drips on the bed. I grip the towel folding myself in it. It smells like him, too.

Warmth from the unwavering sun beams rays around me. I stand and follow it hypnotically, closer to the edge on the tall clear window. I sigh.

I don't see anything different from what I saw through the bathroom window. My teeth nip at my lip from the memory. A forest of trees, grass and skies. The day looks inappropriately calm and sunny for what I'm feeling.

My mind drifts to all the events of the day before. The surreal moments like an endless nightmare. I can't escape the doctor's words echoing through my mind like a broken record. My mother…murdered. It can't be true.

I reject it.

My body tells me to run, to find escape… anywhere. The rapid beat of my anxious heart tells me to find the answers. The seeker in my nature wants to dig for proof. But I also want to scream loud enough for someone to hear me and get me out of this glass prison. For Charlie to hear me. He would clear away the lies. He has to.

I have to keep focused and strong. I can't show them fear. I promise myself, standing here, that one way or another, this confusion will be cleared. The demon doctor has the answers. My entire body tenses. I fist an angry tear away.

A slight shift in the room makes me turn. Edward is standing at the door fully dressed with a bundle tucked under his arm. His jades bore into my brown watery stare. I turn away clearing away the stray tears with the towel discreetly.

"Get dressed," he says. His voice lacks the typical sternness. I hear him drop the clothes on the bed. I turn again and he's gone. The door closed.

The clothes are cotton and comfortable. The style isn't something I'd see in a store. The lack of labels tells me they're probably hand made. I pull on the fitted black pants and a loose long shirt touching my upper thighs. The only revealing part is a slit running from my neck over my left collarbone. I slip on slippers that remind me of ninja shoes I've seen in movies as a kid. They're oddly comfortable.

As I'm slipping on the last shoe, the door swings open. He walks in with a tray of food in his hand. He slips it on the bed next to me.

I look at its contents. My stomach rumbles and I realize I didn't eat solid food the whole time I was out. Visions fill my mind of poison killing me.

I look up at him to find any sign of malice over his face. He quietly sits on the chair he brought in last night looking out the window. He's eyes squint against the sun.

"If I wanted to poison you I would've done it long ago. Poison wouldn't be the most creative and indulging way to do it," he says, never looking away from the window. He's read me. Without a doubt.

He reaches for his side and lifts his knife. He picks at his nails with the end looking genuinely bored. His hair is still dark and damp from the bath. His tired eyes didn't wash away. I wonder if it's permanent as I glare from his remark. His eyes cut to mine. I look away scared.

I eat quietly, never looking up at him. Every bite I grow more anxious. I'm famished. With shaky hands I wash down toast, fruit and cinnamon oatmeal with orange juice. Before I can take a deep breath, I've eaten everything in a gulp.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I freeze.

The silence around me makes me grimace. I look up and he's staring at me. His arms are crossed over the back of the chair, knife mid air in one hand. My teeth find my lip sheepishly.

I look at my hands or at the windows, anywhere but his face. He quietly moves to put his knife away. "I need to talk to Carlisle…or…the Doctor, Dr. Cullen," I stutter.

I fidget looking back at him. I straighten my spine and shake off my nervous hands. _I can't show fear._ I tell myself in a mantra again and again. "I need to talk to him." I set my jaw and look straight into his eyes.

"Not gonna happen," he responds. I blink.

"But…he said it himself," I protest hesitantly, my brows knit in agitation, "He said if I wanted to talk to…"

"Not today," he interrupts. He stands. Quickly, he reaches my side and pulls me by my elbow. "Come. Alice is waiting."

I try pulling out of his grasp. I go stiff to keep still. "I _need _to talk to him!" I seethe. He pulls harder. My feet drag on the carpet as he pulls me. I bang a fist on his knuckles with my free hand. "Let go of me!"

He turns abruptly and rattles me by my shoulders. I stagger and blink, bracing myself. "You know well I'm fully loaded. Do you really want to fight me? When I say not today, I mean _not today_," he snaps pulling me, "Walk."

I comply with a huff. I walk past him towards the door. I feel him reach for my arm again and again. I pull away every time. Finally, he relents to pushing me by the small of my back with a few fingers. My strides double as my feet try to catch up. I've never been obnoxiously handled like siblings fighting and bickering. My teeth grind.

I take in our surroundings with focused eyes as he pushes me around corridors in bright lights. We turn a corner in the maze of walls and double doors appear at the far end. The doors are metal and heavy. Bolts secure it from intruders. A tall woman appears from another corridor in a stiff sleek white uniform. Her soft blonde locks cascade over the back in contrast. She balances a tray in one hand and opens a door with the other.

My eyes strain to see what or who is inside. Dr. Cullen sits behind a large desk in a dark room, his face lit from a near by lamp. _Bingo._

I memorize and count corners to remember my way back as Edward pushes me out of sight. I have to find his office again.

We arrive at familiar doors. I walk in to a clean lab—no sign of the havoc I've caused the day before. Alice stands by an occupied bed. A man lies pale and lifeless connected to spider-like wires. Her face doesn't show the impersonal mask a doctor wears for a patient. She cares. She hides her hand holding his under the crisp white sheets. She looks up startled at our presence and pulls away.

"Isabella," she calls to me with a warm grin. Her heels click on the shiny floor as she walks around the bed and comes closer. "How are you feeling?" I blink as her hand comes up to check the temperature of my forehead. Her touch is feathery and warm—a relief compared the harshness still lingering on my lower back. I nod slightly.

"I'm ok," I whisper, surprised at her kindness. Edward leads me to a bed across from her patient. Quickly, Alice reaches for my arms, lifting the sleeves to examine every inch of me. She moves to my face, her warm palm sooths the worry wrinkles on my forehead.

Edward tenses, still standing by my side as her fingers graze my jaw and chin. I watch her eyes and see no indication of a discovery. I think Edward sighs in relief. He smothers his face with a hand as he walks away to pace. A bubble of amusement crawls in my stomach. It quickly sobers when his icy stare finds my eyes. I look away.

Alice freezes on my ankle. I wince.

"Masen!" she calls behind her infuriated. He's gone. She sighs looking back at me.

"It wasn't…" I don't know why I begin a lie.

"Don't you dare. I gave him specific orders." She snaps interrupting me.

"I tried to escape." It wasn't a lie. She watches me for a moment and looks away without saying a word.

I sit still as she checks my vitals. The beeps of a machine across from us fills the awkward silence.

"Is…he going to be ok?" I ask looking over at her patient. He's handsome even in his state. Dirty blonde hair, lean body and firm features. His built looks militant and strong even under the large patches of gauze covering his torso. He intimidates me…unconscious. I imagine what his story is…If he's like me.

Alice's shoulders drop. Her worry and sadness radiates even through her touch. "He's stable," she says plainly.

I don't want to press, but as I watch her for a moment, she looks his way one too many times. Something about her melts the fear and anxiety in me. Something tells me she's the person to trust in a batch of all bad apples. But I need assurance.

The velcro and strap to the blood pressure monitor tightens around my upper arm. She continues pumping the small balloon in her hand. She doesn't elaborate. "What's his story?" I ask. My question stops her movement and looks up at me from her gaze on him. "Does he know he's here or was he also taken?"

At my words I watch her wince. The corners of her mouth slightly dip in a frown when her lips press in a line. She looks at anything but my face. I wait.

She sighs. "Isabella…"

"Bella," I say interrupting, "Please, call me Bella. I mean…I'm here for god knows how long, right? Might as well drop the formalities. Get to know each other. Girl talk. Bond, even."

She blinks in shock.

"I need to talk to that Doctor. Can you do that?" I say to her increasingly narrowing eyes. Her spine straightens and suddenly her face hardens. The intimidating Alice I first set eyes on comes forth.

"No today," she says turning away.

"_Then when?_" I shout leaning towards her. She looks up to her patient as a machine beeps abnormally.

"He's been through more than a human should ever be forced to go through," she says about him, clearly ignoring me. I hold back a frustrated grunt. My fists clench. "Far from what you're going through. Compared to him, you're lucky."

My eyes narrow in anger. _Lucky._

"And no, he wasn't taken, like you. He was saved, like you," she says finishing as she continues with my arm.

"Saved?" I ask, a brief humorless chuckle escapes me. "Or kidnapped?" Her lips go pale with anger.

"We were all saved, _Bella. _Every one of us." She walks away to search a metal tray. I don't respond trying to process what she said. _Who's us?_

"What do you mean?" I finally relent.

"Him, you, Edward, Emmett, Rose, myself. All of us." She shrugs. "We all needed to be saved. And now we're here…safe. You're safe, Bella." She looks at me. Bliss in her expression. _Is she insane?_

"_I'm safe? _There is nothing safe about this…" I spread my arms. Hot blood pluses up my neck. I fume. "Where the hell am I? WHY AM I HERE?"

My shouts reach the corridors forcing Edward to barge in through the doors. My chest constricts. I find Alice's hands on my shoulders trying to calm me. The urge to repeat the chaos of yesterday itches my shaking hands. I snatch my arms out of Alice's grasp. She turns to send Edward a warning glare until he leaves.

"Yes. You're safe, Bella! You didn't die. _They _didn't take you!" Her hands hover over my shoulders.

"If I'm safe, then don't treat me like a prisoner!" I hiss.

"Stop trying to escape!" she hisses back.

We stare each other down before she turns away again. I blink.

"Wouldn't you?" I ask after tense silence. "Wouldn't you try to find your way out? One moment I'm normal. One day I'm living happily and then the next… I wake up here," I pause to look into her softening eyes. "I want my life back. I want my mother back." My hold back the lump building at my throat.

Alice keeps silent. Her brows knitted in sympathy. "I need to know, Alice. Why am I here?" I manage to choke out in a plea.

She shakes her head slowly. "I don't know. But we have to keep you alive…._safe_."

"Does he know the truth?" She knows I'm referring to the doctor.

"He only gave us orders to keep an eye on you. We do what he says. No questions asked. You don't fight with Carlisle. Not him." She focuses on the wall behind me in thought. "He's…dangerous." Even in her strong features I see fear when she uttered the words.

She pulls up my shirt exposing my stomach. Her fingers find my ribs and poke examining.

"Then why do you put up with him?" I'm curious. "_You're _free," I state. She chuckles.

"No. We're all family. I'd never betray him. And there's no other place I belong. Like I said…he saved us."

"He doesn't own your life."

"No, but he created it," she responds without a thought.

I shake my head in confusion.

"I would know how dangerous he is, Bella because he's my father." She doesn't look at me as she says this. It's not an issue.

But her fear shows. Fear of her own blood.

She removes the gauze on my neck and her demeanor changes to anger. I can't help it. "And him?" I ask speaking of the one in question. Visions of his bare skin and dark scar bring only questions. I'm hassled to know what makes him tick…what happened. I hold my breath for her response.

"Him," she pauses. Her eyes shift to mine from her position. Grim. "Not to be toyed with. Worse. Do as he says." She looks away without another word.

My heart picks up. Suddenly, I can't breathe right. She didn't elaborate and I'm sure for a reason. _Worse… than the doctor? _

"He seems to fear you…" I whisper. Threatening him with mentioning her name had to mean something earlier.

She shakes her head in assurance. "I'm the daughter," she says as a way of explanation.

_Oh._

"Carlisle takes his every word with immense weight. He's an extension of his right arm. I wouldn't be able to say who fears whom exactly. Carlisle seems to lose the battle at times." She stops herself and straightens. Her face mortified from revealing too much. "Don't…repeat that. Ever."

I nod once. I can't respond. My heart is in my throat. _And I _toyed _with him. _I keep my mouth shut about the bathroom incident. No way I'll repeat that either. Ever. My face goes crimson red.

"What…" I cower instantly, my thoughts freeze. Alice holds a long syringe, clear liquid floats in a cylinder.

"It's a must. Turn around and keep still," she says casually. My eyes roll back to my head instantly. The fear of needles threatened me since young. I shake my head. Her lips tighten in a line.

"I'll call him in and you'll regret it," she says in a bored tone.

I jump off the bed and turn as fast as my shaking legs let me. _Fuck no. _I think I hear her snicker.

"What is it?" I have to ask after a moment.

"Cocktail. Antibiotics, pain killer, hormones for balance…" she trails off.

"Why?"

"You almost died, Bella. You need help." I nod understanding. I yelp from the prick on my cheek.

"Hormones?" I ask after the pain subsides. I taste blood off my lip from my nipping.

"Very important. It gives you strength, aligns your system, nerves, protects reproductive organs, menstrual cycle."

I nod.

"You… fractured your pelvis. Amongst other things," she adds. I gasp.

"What other things?" My eyes wide.

"Ribs, ankle, wrist, dislocated arm, internal bleeding, skull…" _Oh god. _I stare at her in disbelief. I can't speak.

"Thank you," I whisper. A tear escapes. She shrugs.

"Like I said… _lucky."_

I can't swallow. _How did I heal so fast? _

I sit watching Alice move around the lab gracefully. I glance a few times over the unconscious man and wonder how he'd react when he wakes up and finds he's been in a strange place…healing from whatever almost broke his life.

My thoughts are interrupted, as my tongue grows heavy. It presses to the roof of my mouth. I taste metal. My mouth goes dry and like a flash, I'm transported back in time. De ja vu. The shot rushes through my blood stream.

I close my eyes, dwelling in a sphere of tingles running through me. I shiver. I rub my eyes attempting to clear away the fuzziness. I've felt like this before. I remember the feeling like a clipped dream. My mind struggles to skim through that moment. _When was it? _

Like snapshots, flashes of my mother's hands appear behind my eyelids again. _My dream from this morning_. I press a palm on my forehead and lean an elbow on my knee. _What was it? _I can't recall.

The taste of metal intensifies in my taste buds. I vaguely notice Alice across the room, shuffling through files.I give in to my slouched spine and slip over the metal bed, my elbow over my eyes. My breathing constricts. Weight presses over my chest.

"Dizzy?" Alice asks moving to my side. I nod unable to respond. She sounds far away. "Keep still. It'll pass." She pats my leg as her voice echoes through my ears. I try to move—anything to alarm her. This is too intense.

I whimper. The weight deepens. Flash after flash of images reveals more. My mother's hands are soft and protective, holding mine. Suddenly, they tighten. I felt the panic in her hands in my dream, I remember. I heard cries of a child. _Did I? _I feel like I'm floating in a hazy fog. I can't feel the bed beneath me. I can't feel my limbs. Sleep threatens to take over. I fight it away inhaling gulps of air through my parted lips. I try and focus but the brightness behind my lids blurs the vision.

"Bella?" Alice calls in echoes from miles away. "Sleep." _I don't want to sleep! _I want to yell. I'm trashing, kicking my legs and arms to awake. But I'm not moving.

"_Bella, hunny?" _my mother calls_. _

I gasp.

I open my eyes to find her voice. I'm not in the lab. Brightness blinds me. "_Keep still, ok?" _I hear her again. I look up and I'm holding her hand. Mine is small in hers. I'm a girl again. My cheeks feel wet. My throat aches. I'm crying. _"You're so brave, my Bella." _Something is wrong but her voice sooths me. I feel myself hiccupping as I let her voice calm me. I can't see her face.

I look up. A silhouette of a man is in front of me. I travel my eyes from his chest to his face. My hand grips my mother's tighter in fright. I feel leaks of new tears traveling down my cheeks. In his hand he holds a syringe. He laughs.

My blood runs cold. _I know this laugh._

I strain my neck to look above me as he towers over me. The needle is getting closer. I blink. The white cotton dress covering my lap is red—speckles of blood. My screams reach my ears. My mother is still by my side. She doesn't fight away the needle.

I look up to his eyes. They're ice blue. His eyes wrinkle at the corners. His platinum blond hair is parted to the side in a slick mound. He looks too kind for his fearsome laugh. It penetrates my chest in waves. Anger flows through me.

His white coat swivels as he comes closer, bringing the needle with every inch. _"He won't let it hurt, hunny. Just close your eyes_," my mother assures me from above. He laughs again. But I trust her. My eyes flicker closed. I sniffle and tense, knowing it's coming. The prick jolts me. I scream. The coos from my mother reach my ears. I open my eyes watching the pattern of speckled blood on my dress. He speaks but I can't understand him. I follow his hand reaching for his breast pocket. My eyes widen at the sounds of a candy wrapper.

His fingers linger in his pocket. I lean in closer, anticipating my reward. His finger covers black letters stitched into the fabric of his pocket. I focus on the curvy stitched capital 'C'…waiting. He finally pulls out a red lollipop. Without hesitating, I let go of my mother's hand to reach for it. I smile despite my hiccuping. I wipe my wet cheek with the back of my hand. _"Bella, hunny, Say thank you to Dr. Cullen,"_ she says, her hands on my shoulders, _"Go on…"_ she presses. I look up at him.

Fear.

His eyes darken. _Dr. Cullen._

I jolt awake. Screaming sounds sobers my dizzied slumber.

A monitor with wires attached to Alice's patient crashes. I look up to see Alice running towards the noise. In a blink of an eye she's beside him. I watch blurry-eyed as the man convulses off the bed. The cacophony of noise fills the lab and its high ceilings. Alice hovers over his body holding him down.

I rub my eyes. My back aches feeling like I've been laying here for hours. I watched Alice struggle. But my mind is still foggy. _Dr. Cullen. _My brain relives what I've seen. It felt so real. My staggered breaths accelerate. Something deep inside tells me it was. _Did she really know Carlisle? How?_

At the sight of a needle, my stomach turns with a crippling feeling without failing. I felt this way in the dream. I instantly wonder if this was the source of my phobia. But what I need to know with urgency is what was in the shot my mother allowed him to give me. She didn't fight it. She allowed it. _Why?_

My stomach churns as I look around. Realization hits me with coiling muscles.

I'm alone.

A set of intimidating metal doors I saw earlier pops into my mind. _Do I dare to find it?_

I climb off the bed slowly hoping Alice won't notice. I tiptoe to the middle of the lab, the door just a few feet away. I look back at Alice and she's still struggling.

_Go. _My feet shuffle over the shiny floors. My heart in my throat. I find the glass divider I hid behind yesterday where needles crashed into. I grip the door handle behind it. I stop. _Edward must be out there…waiting. _Damn it.

I look back and Alice is elbow deep in wires and tubes. Her face focused and scared. Her hands never cease to weaken in her haste. _What do I do? _

_Murdered. She was murdered._

The doctor's words pierce into my thoughts. My hold on the handle tightens. Curiosity builds with each thump of my heart. _Answers. _I need answers.

I dismiss the guilt of leaving Alice to struggle on her own and turn the handle. The door cracks open. Brightness seeps through a slit. I blink. I focus my eyes to an empty corridor. I inch the door wider. No one.

My heart leaps with relief as I stick out my head through the crack and scan the area. The guarded area is abandoned. My back thrashes against the wall once I slip through, closing the door softly behind me. My steps mimic my quickening heartbeats as I run down the path I remember.

Left…right…another right.

Every light fixture, walls, lines through the corridors look alike. I glance behind me. Anxiety. I run faster. My shoes clutch to the shiny floors and to my relief keep silent. Not a sound echoes around me besides my own breathing.

Right…right…another right. I stop.

Footsteps. _Oh god._

My back is against the wall before I even know where to look. I don't know where it's coming from. It's far still, slowly getting closer. I hold my breath. I try to concentrate on the distance, estimating their proximity. I try to calm my pulse in my ears to listen closely. My palms find the wall behind me, pressing over a seam.

_Left. _I turn my head instantly. They're coming close. A woman. Her heels hit the floor. As if an escape would appear, I look around me frantically. There's nothing to hide behind. I run forward to a near turn. I slowly peak around the bend and keep running when I see no one.

_Shit, I lost track._ I'm panting as I look around me. _Was it a left… or a right? _

My senses are screaming to keep running, but my hands find the wall again. I remember Alice coming from a hidden door yesterday. There must be more. I slide along the wall pushing against it, pressing my fist on each seam I pass. I hear the footsteps are around the bend.

_Please, please, open!_

I start, practically leaping off my feet. Loud clatter hits the floor. "Motherfucker!" I hear her voice clearly. I look, following something clear and round roll down across the corridor's floor. Pills bounce to opposite directions in various colors. She's still out of view around the corner.

I turn. Running, I try and reach the end of the wall, my right hand slides over it supporting me as I turn to look over my shoulder.

I almost yelp. My knees lock slightly as I'm startled again. My arms reach to cover my head in a crouch. An angry growl reaches my ears from behind me followed by metal hitting the wall. I look to see a tray bouncing off the floor as it rattles to a steady stop. Her heels stomp around as she bends to pick up the mess. I see her shadow across the wall, tall and thin.

It gets smaller and smaller as she get closer to the bend. I freeze. Instantly, her arm is in view. She bends to pick up more stray pieces. If she comes any further, she will see me. I shuffle my feet one behind the other trying not to make big movements.

I'm falling.

I hold back a grunt when I trip over my foot. My hands reach out to brace myself against the wall. It opens. I fall deeper into a dark slit through a seamless door. I wince as my chest and face hits the hard floor.

I glance back sure that she heard me. My alarming eyes watch as she continues moving. A gush of breath escapes my throat with relief.

I turn and crawl as fast as I can through the door. I hide looking out through a slit. My heart eases from its frantic beating. I'm safe… but now I have to wait. My shoulders drop as I lean my head back against the wall beside the door. I look around the dark room. My eyes adjust over boxes stacked on top of each other—a storage room.

She's walking closer. I see her hand fumbling to gather everything within the edges of the tray in frustration. To my relief she's looking down. My fingers shake trying to make the open seam invisible. I keeping my thumb form closing it fully, hoping it won't lock me in.

Her heels stop as another clank of plastic hits the floor and bounces off the door. My breath hitches. My hand shifts against the door being pushed. I shift my body and frantically fight to keep it closed. I hear a grunt as she bends down to get the stray object while balancing herself against the loose door. _And It had to happen right here!_

I silently pray she won't push further. She let's go. I let go of a held breath slumping to the floor. I listen to her heels fading away frozen in place. Angry mumbles echo behind in her wake.

I sit up with seeping anxiety. By this time, Alice should already know I'm absent. They must be looking for me. _He _must be looking for me_. _My blood runs cold. I silently wonder how I'll distract Edward this time from cutting my fingers off.

I slip out when the coast is clear. My heart seems to pick up right where it left off. My guess is I have to follow wherever she came from. I creep back to the bend, the abandoned pills crunch under my shoes.

Left… next right.

Like a mirage in a desert, I face the shiny doors with tremor. Relief soars through me with accomplishment. It quickly dissipates when I realize the hard part is yet to come.

I look around for any new obstacle or stranger. I don't hear a sound. Nothing moves behind the doors. The walls around are clear from any surveillance, yet I feel I'm being watched.

Electricity charges through my fingers, up my arm, the moment I touch the handle. I freeze. Beads of sweat run down my nape. I hold my breath as I take a last peak behind me. The sharp corners of every corridor mock me with visions of Edward appearing. I bite down on my lip.

I turn. I hear a faint sound from behind the door. _He's in there. _I press my ear to the cool metal.

_Not today. _Their warnings flood my mind—tantalizing whispers of danger.

I came this far. I can't go back.

I push.

Red carpeted floors. Black walls and shelved books. The room is peculiar. The door is heavy. I push harder. A shadow of a man's head and shoulders bathes the carpet below in crimson. A dim lamp lights the space in a glow. I stop.

I see the lamp set on the desk. A tall, dark and solid desk sits in the middle of the room. My hands shake. I don't think I have the strength to push further. I'm watching through a slit from the parted door and he doesn't move.

The same eerie feeling from my dream crawls through my limbs. _This doesn't feel right. _I look behind me. Nothing. I can't breathe.

I welcome it, as I'm sure the sounds of my staggered breaths are too loud. I stand very still…and wait.

I wait. And I wait.

He doesn't move an inch.

With furrowed brows my hands find the handle again. Curiosity strikes bravery. I push. My eyes witness a slow reveal of more desk. My movements cease the moment I spot a pair of woman's shoes peeking from the side. The heels are tall—the soles match the carpet. Their black satin fabric contrasts with the red tendrils that make the floor. I hitch a choked breath the moment I realized they're cradling a woman's slender feet.

They don't move. Nothing makes a sound.

I want to turn back.

Sweat runs over my forehead now. I reach to wipe a bead away with a clammy hand. I look back. Still nothing. My prison under Edward's watch is beginning to look appealing. At this very moment, every bone in my body pleads to be far away from here.

Her toes move. I blink.

Her red polished nails shift slightly in her shoes. I almost missed it. My hands find the handle again. _What is going on? _My mind runs to find a reason for this. _She's dying. He's killing her._

I carefully take a step in. His shadow moves. I freeze.

His shadowed arm lifts from behind the desk. The shadow of a gun is nestled in his hand. He cocks it.

I gasp.

Silence shatters. Loud pops ricochets around me. I turn for cover. The door becomes a shield. _Run. _The sound is earsplitting. I reach to cover them.

Pain.

I grunt. My legs grow weak instantly. My arm numb. I stagger, crashing into the doorframe. I feel the hard floor before I can catch my fall. Pops and pops of bullets rush above me. I hear them slicing through the air and the thick metal doors.

I try to stand. I have to move. My hand reaches for my arm with a scream. I hear my own voice echo through the walls of every corridor. _He hit me._

I look down at blood coating my palm. He doesn't stop. The angry shrills repeat with every shot.

I lift to my knees and crawl before I crash down again. The pain shoots up through my chest and neck. I can't move. I chance a look beyond the maze of corridors. I scream until it reaches them…anyone—not caring anymore. I drag my body with an elbow.

I hear running footsteps. My heart lurches. I look up to see down a corridor metal gleaming from his hand. His dark familiar clothes rustles against his torso with the speed of his charging legs.

"Carlisle!" Edward screams. He's running towards the gunfire. I reach a hand out in warning, but it's too late. He's falling.

I gasp watching his thigh and hip slide over the shiny floor towards me. I blink and he's beside me. He breaks his speed with a kick to the shielding door. It swings open. At once, he's over me, crushing my chest to the ground. He shoots.

One single shot. The gunfire stops.

A mist of smoke clears slowly as time stretches. "Fuck," he murmurs above me breaking the silence. The weight of his chest is still on my back, struggling to catch a breath. The floor beneath me is cold but his chest is warm. His hand gripping his deadly piece slaps against the floor by my wounded arm. The pain is like I've never felt before. Sharp burning. I whimper watching my blood spreading towards his hand. I'm dizzy again. A haze covers my eyes as I see blurred red inch closer to him thumb. The hair at my temple moves with his staggered huffs.

Regret. Shame. I grimace. My forehead presses to the floor. He could've been hit…_because of me. _I'm betting he saved me to kill me himself.

With a growl, he stands. I flinch. His occupied hand shifts with the effort and disappears from my line of sight. I lift my head to look back.

The doctor is still sitting behind his desk—an amused expression playing over his lips.

He laughs.

The soaring howl coming from him makes his body slouch around his broad leather chair. With a choked "Oops", the demented doctor sets off into a fit again. His fist bangs on the desktop.

Edward is beyond enraged.

I look down to see the doctor's gun by the woman's shoes. Edward must've shot it out of his hand. I look up to see the shoes disappear before a woman materializes at the doctor's side. She smoothes wrinkles from her skirt with manicured hands. She stands tall and lean with fiery red locks—dark blue irises coldly stare. Carlisle sags his head on her hip as he tries to sober. His arm snakes around her waist. She wipes her red lips clean with a grin.

Edward grips his gun at his side with white knuckles. I spot a speckle of my blood running down his thumb.

"I told you there was someone there," the doctor says looking up at her. She snickers with hand on her waist, the other stroking his hair and neck. "Ah, what a wonderful surprise. Don't you think?" He smiles motioning towards me.

I struggle to my knees managing to lean against the doorframe. I hold back the screech from the searing pain pressing my lips together. Shuddered whimpers escape my throat. I want to cower away from the staring couple. I glance through Edward's parted legs above me before I turn away. Betraying tears streaks my sweat stained face.

"Aw, forgive me darling. I didn't…"

"Call Alice," Edward demands cutting him off.

"Oh, it's just a scratch," Carlisle argues with a dismissive hand. "She's fi…"

"Call her!" Edward is frozen in place not attempting to move a centimeter. I look up at him in disbelief. He's talking back.

I look up in time to see Carlisle's face loose every ounce of humor over it. His eyes darken.

My instinct is to crawl behind the door. The woman stands unphased.

He reaches with one finger on his desk and presses a button never breaking eye contact. The tension is palpable.

"Edward, meet Jelena." He motions with a hand towards her. "I've told her so much about you." A crooked grin creeps up his lips ignoring their heated exchange. The woman nods with sly smile eyeing him from head to toe. Edward doesn't respond.

"She _came_ for business…" He pauses, pressing his lips together to hold back a laugh. Jelena nudges him playfully. "I'm still not finished with our…_meeting. _I gave specific orders not to disturb me today. Didn't I?" Edwards stiffens and finally looks away.

I try and listen but I'm growing weaker. My eyes flutter with dizzy focus. My breathing accelerates. I palm my numb arm fighting the fatigue. I can't black out. Not here. I hear him speak of her but I can't make out what he's saying.

My eyes roll to the back of my head. I groan aloud. The pain is eating at my every limb. The burning grows hotter. Suddenly I can't breath. "I take full responsibility," Edward murmurs above me.

"Oh, I know. And you'll pay," Carlisle responds. The threat to his voice is back again. He's not laughing anymore. I hear them faintly as I'm slipping further down the doorframe. I can't hold back the sounds I'm making as my throat closes. Instinctively, I lift my palm to my throat. I'm choking. Panic.

My good arm flays around me trying to will oxygen into my lungs. _Oh god. _I try to word aloud a pleading help but nothing comes out. I'm on the floor where I can see her in her red outfit staring down at me with a grin. The men are too engrossed in their own glares they don't notice hers on me.

My hand connects with Edward's ankle. I pull his pant leg. My nails scratch the denim in a death grip. He cuts his eyes down to mine. They darken under furrowed brows. He looks up to Carlisle. His eyes fill with panic. "Your round was laced," he states without a question. His arms tense under his shirt.

"Hm, might've been." The doctor responds with a detached tone.

I watch him bend over me through watery eyes. "Damn it, Carlisle," he hisses. My body curls. I'm lifted off the ground.

"Leave her!" Carlisle shouts. Edward stops. Silence swallows up the echo of his order through the corridors. The tension stretches in a heavy pause.

I stare through half lidded eyes at his stubbled jaw. It tightens. His lips are grim in a line as he side glances the doctor with flared nostrils. I'm slumped back on the cold floor. I whimper in a strangled plea.

My face feels like all the blood has drained from it. The little air I can pull from my lips slips uneasily. My lungs are burning. Edward doesn't move away as he stiffly straightens to face him. I lie facing the ceiling, partly over his left shoe were he placed me. He looms above with trembling fists as white as paper. His chest heaves.

"I haven't dismissed you," the doctor says calmly. His leather chair creaks as he shifts. I can't see what he's doing. My attention is growing as narrow as my windpipe.

"Jelena here has information on our lieutenant. He's butting in too much and getting too close. He'll go through any possible way to get her back." He audibly sighs. I'm thrashing my legs as I snake around over the floor. Everyone seems to be watching me struggle silently. He doesn't say a word for a moment.

I heard _lieutenant. _I know I heard him say it. My eyes widen as my hand grips Edwards leg again—scratching at his shin. He doesn't flinch. Everything about him seems calm and collected, only his hands uncurl and tighten with an anxious twitch.

_Not Charlie! _I want to scream.

"Go snoop a bit. Eliminate the source feeding into his plans, please. I'm getting a bit tired." He finishes with a sigh. His chair protests again. I turn my head with all my strength to catch a glimpse of him. He's watching me. A hand is cradling his chin. His eyes full of sympathy.

Anger heats the burning in me to a flame. _I would kill him._

He looks up at Edward with knitted brows as if realization hits him. "Well hurry, she only has seconds," he snaps with an incredulous wave my way.

Edward lifts me off the floor in a rush. He's running. My head falls back as I strain to keep my eyes locked on the grinning doctor's face. His office grows smaller and smaller with the distance. A wall obstructs his piercing Icy blue glare as he blows a kiss goodbye.

—•—•—•

* * *

**A/N: How will Edward punish Bella for disobeying?**

**Next chap, when inspiration hits me in the forehead. Cross your fingers for me! (LOL, that's reassuring, huh? No, I'm ok.) ILU all for your reviews! I see you adding! thanks!  
**


	11. Chapter 10: Truth

**Apologies, huge apologies. Fuggin' life and my 29yrold disorder (the kind where you're TERRIFIED of the big three oh). I cried. I brooded. I got a new laptop to cure it (don't tell anyone I actually bought the 'puter JUST to write FF in bed). This chap is how I've been feeling. But I'm better now after writing it! :-D ****I finally found my inspiration in the shower (there, an image of me naked ;) so the next chaps will come quicker.**

**ATTENTION:** My gal, jayisuncouth's Red Corn Poppy, was nominated at Vampawards: twificpics . com / vampawards / ? page_id=198. A oneshot about the cullens playing with their food in EsmePOV. Really creepy an amazing. She will write more if you read and like! Go read!

**I don't own Twilight. I just own a Mini and my FF reading device—iPhone.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — Whip that nutter fugger wit it!**

**—•—•—•**

**_Sound: How to destroy Angels – A drowning_**

**—•—•**

**Chapter 10 – Truth**

Sticky eyelids. I try. One hundred, seventy eight heart beats later. I still try to blink them free.

I float. Numb in all limbs. A weightless numb.

One unsticks. I blink that one. The ceiling is dark. The room is dark. Water swivels around me. A pool. Flickering light forms shadows above. Steam rises. My lips unseal. Cold air seeps through, making teeth alive.

Two hundred, thirty three heart beats later. I blink two lids free.

Now for my fingers... and then toes.

I don't know where I am, but I know what happened. I've been dreaming about it. Flashing images of two faces. One, exasperated with worry. The other...angry.

They saved me. Again. But in the rarest of ways. I felt the stab of the endless needle to my heart. I felt it. Through and through. It isn't often you feel your heart being stabbed... literally. It's crashing. Horrifying. Symbolic and physical. I understood and _felt _the meaning.

Charlie. They will find him next. My life. They have taken it away.

I couldn't scream. If I had filled lungs I would've. But I watched Edward shouting an order to Alice. The icy blue eyes left behind in a maze of corridors burned into my vision till I saw nothing. I was blinded. I blacked out. My heart stopped. The poison in his bullets did more damage than one hit. It did much more. Before everything went black, I was blinded by anger—until Edward's order to Alice appeared in a form of a sharp torment. He held down my convulsing body. Then I felt it.

Through and through.

My lungs filled. I sat up with a heave and filled them. They watched. My wounded arm lied lifeless at my side. It was forgotten. Its pain was nothing compared to what that felt like.

"Two seconds," announced Alice. She glanced at her watch briefly. Edward's jaw tightened. "Two more seconds and she would've died." She looks at Edward. "Why is it that my patient is hurt every time _you_ bring her in?" She needed answers from him. Carlisle pressed a null button on his desk. She was never called.

I slumped down to my back as he growled at her. He was furious. But not at her. At me. At Carlisle. It was a joke to him. He knew it was me outside his door. He fired anyway. He wanted to scare me away. He didn't want to give me answers.

I watched Edward's retrieving back after he mentioned the doctor's name. Only his name and she knew. She understood. I blacked out. But not before feeling a creeping fear of the inevitable. The consequence. The punishment. He really _will _hurt me. I felt it.

My toes. I only feel this now. I lost count of heart beats. But it's alright, I don't start over. It will continue beating. I need it to continue. The pulsing is relief to my submerged ears. I float in a pool of worry and regret. Worry of what will come. Regret of, not what i did but what I failed to do. I needed answers and have nothing but a hole in my arm and a punctured heart.

My other arm moves. My index finds a solid surface over the water. I pierce through it. It cracks. All fingers push through a shell over the surface of the pool. Water sealed beneath where I float. I rub a cracked piece on my index and thumb. It's like a film of dried soap. I sit up. The shell cracks away from my cheeks, my arms, my torso. I push through. My slick soaked hair trails behind me. My whole body was submerged, leaving my nose, mouth and eyes above surface. My brows knit together at the oddness. It feels foreign. _But what isn't in this place?_

In nothing but beige rubber garments, I turn either way and see nothing. Nothing but an empty high ceiling black room, lit by flickering candles around me. They melt down to the floor in pillars of different sizes. The walls are of cement and full of grime. They use to be white. Old smoke stained sconces light a dim glow over the room. Pipes run up walls and around the ceiling until they disappear. A basement.

I hold my breath for any sounds. I hear nothing but moving water in another bigger pool close by. The water is dark, scary. I push thoughts of terrorizing unknowns submerging. Far away a leak from a pipe drips in echoes through the eerie space.

Nothing.

My eye catches a towel behind me. I clutch the soft cotton with rough wrinkled fingers. When I drag it close a piece of paper flutters over the floor and falls into the pool. The ink smears. The fibers grow dark as it soaks. It floats. The black script letters read, _"Stay."_

I look around again. The strong strokes to the letters are as thick as the tension it instantly created in the room. Every drip, clank and flickering candle becomes an intruder, a fidget...paranoia. Hours it seems. I sit in the pool. I wait.

I feel for my wounded arm. No bandage. I examine it with amazement. The dull pain deep inside is as faint as a bruise. My fingers trace the perfect circular pierced skin. It's sealed. A single scar lingers as proof that this wasn't my brightest plan. I roll my arm around, testing. Healed. A humourless chuckled echoes through the room. Incredible. My palm cuts through the water slowly in thought.

The water.

Even my skin is firmer. My hair seems thicker. Remembering, I reach my ankle, bending my knee. His bruise is gone. My fingers find my neck. A thin faint line—all in the past. I can't hold back a grin. My mind toys with possibilities of fountain of youth or healing water. Impossible.

Hours. It seems like hours. _Stay. _I sigh.

I lay my head over the edge on the towel with relaxed elbows. I watch the fire in tear drop shapes flicker. The wax runs down the pillars to the cement rough floor in organic bubbles. I poke some. I play with fire with two fingers, feeling the spark of heat before I pull away. It goes out with a hiss. Smoke floats up to the ceiling.

_Charlie. _I don't want to believe Edward found him as he was ordered. I don't want to believe it's too late. But I don't know how long I've been here. "_Stay" _crumbles in my anxious fist. Drips of absorbed water trickles down my knuckles from the fibers. If I don't do what the paper says... what will happen? A hole between my eyes? A whole in my chest?

_Stay...stay...stay._

_I can't...because of Charlie._

I lift myself out of the hole in the ground. No stair or ledge to be found to pull myself up. I wouldn't have made it with one good arm. The towel is soft around my shoulders. I pass the pillars of candles and head towards an exit, a path. It's dark and uninviting.

I peak beyond a corner. Double doors. I reach it without hesitating and reach for the knob. My fingers meet in a fist. I breathe sharply. _Not again. _I groan. The knob is invisible. _Another knobless door_. I find the seams and again...nothing. With my hands against it I dip my head low with a frustrated growl. I still and hear nothing beyond it. I press my ear to it and nothing.

I'm tired of these games. _I'm tired_. I bang the wood with angry fists, "Get me out!" Bang. Bang. Bang. "You stay away from my father! Stay away!" I'm kicking. I'm shoving. I'm pushing. "Get me out!"

Nothing. I fight. And fight.

My fist stops mid air. A latch unlocks. Small. Almost inaudible. A dim light seeps through a keyhole. I look down and it brightens my towel. My knees shake as I kneel slowly. My hands trail over the lacquered wood. The beam is eye level now. I blink and freeze.

The silence is eerie. I sit of my heels unmoving at first. I want to call out but the silence mutes me. I lean. My lashes feathers against the wood at my proximity. The basement walls continue down a dark dingy hallway on the other side of the door. It's empty. My heart beats loudly against my ears. If I focus I can count again. But I can't now. Now I see an empty hallway, freedom, yet someone is there. Taunting me. The fine hairs of my arms rise on attention. I hold my breath and lean in closer.

An eye.

I hold back a strangled sound from my throat. I try not to scream. I fall back. It follows me.

It appeared, covering the bright light coming through the opening. One eye. As close as mine.

I scramble to my knees again and lean back in. It watches me and doesn't blink. My jaw tightens. My lips dry. The pulse in my throat threatens to close it. I open my mouth to say something but can't speak.

"Who..." I dare to try. The person doesn't speak. "I need... get me Alice." My only hope.

He snickers. His blue eye grows darker. I grow angry.

"_Let me outttt!" _I bang a fist. He just continues laughing.

His eye is gone and the brightness comes. "So it's true, you can't follow directions." I hear him through the door. "His pet is a fierce one."

I'm panting. "I'm no pet, you mongrel! Get me the fuck out!"

"Oh, but you are. He'd be angry if you were hurt again." Humor seeps out of his words.

I lean in. He's out of sight. But I can feel his vibrating words on the right side of the door. "Carlisle?" I go with it.

"Uh, uh," he says pausing. I can smell smoke. I recognize the dense scent. I close my eyes for a moment. My cheek against the surface. I open one eye to peer. A perfect ring of smoke pushes through. "loosen up..." he offers with a single chuckle. I swat it away. "By the way, the size of your balls with that stunt..." he whistles, "Massive. Bravo."

The keyhole is silent. I slump to the ground. He's not going to let me out.

"Masen, that's who," he slurs, "Sick bastard hovers and owns you like his puppy. Don't know why he just didn't get rid of you." Smoke finds its way in. I don't swat it away. It's close. My nostrils flare.

"Now _you're_ hovering..." I snap. He laughs.

"Had to see what the big deal was. His shiny new toy for a month now. Never left the lab. The poor, weak civilian needing a savior. Wah, wah, wahhh," he rasps.

"Where is he?" I swallow.

"Fucking mission became his obsession. Did you know he followed you for months? Fucking months." His laugh is muffled with smoke. He ignores me. "He'd leave and we wouldn't hear from him for days. He'd crawl back with battle wounds. Huh," he pauses. I'm silent. "And all the while you were following _him_. You two, running around in circles." My brow furrows in confusion. "Fucking Idiots," he laughs, yet again.

"Circles?"

"You really don't know do you?" he asks after a moment. He sounds genuinely curious.

"Know...what?"

He cackles like he knows a secret, "Absolutely nothing." I sigh.

"Emmett, right?" I know who he is now. His blue eyes, obnoxious laugh. "Where is he, Emmett?"

"Hm," he pauses to take a puff, "Probably putting a bullet down your old man's throat. Fuck if I know." I can hear him shrug. My heart finds its way to my throat again.

"Lie."

"Maybe, maybe not." He's smiling.

"If he touches him...!" my fist finds wood again.

"You'd, what? steal his knife?" he laughs, "That went well. Though, it would be a riot to watch again... yeah, do that...I dare you." My teeth grinding holds back a response. "Best day of my life," he continues. "Did you know him and that knife go way back when he was a little shit thug? I think it used to be his father's. Doesn't let anyone touch it. And then you come along..." he goes out of breath from a heaving, coughing chuckle. "I like you, Swan." I don't respond.

"Oh, c'mon on. It's not like your pops doesn't deserve it," he says after my silence.

"Fuck you! You...fuck you!" I'm on my knees again, banging, "Let me out!" He's laughing. It's far away. His steps are heavy.

"I was ordered to check on you. It was nice chatting with you, Swan." He's leaving.

"GET ME OUT!"

"Food's by the corner wall if you want some grub." I look through the hole and I see him now. Silk black shirt over muscular chest, slacks and polished shoes. The ring on his pinky reflects light. He extinguishes the bud on his tongue. It hisses. He drops it to the floor.

"Please." I'm begging. I hate it.

"Alice's orders—you're not done yet. Just pretend it's a spa, sweetheart." His laugh echoes behind the closing door.

He's gone. I slump back to the floor seething. Minutes pass... hours. I don't know. I watch the hallway. A mouse crawls far away, soundly. My only companion. I process what he's said. I move. My muscles prickle but I find the food.

Why would Charlie ever deserve it? Why would anybody? Edward hovered. Yet, Edward hates me. And now he went after Charlie. And now _I_ hate him. Alice said they were keeping me safe. _Safe_. He continues to pull me out of death, yet he goes to find Charlie. I feel an odd betrayal. I hate him. I feel useless and I can't do anything.

My arm begins to hurt after I eat. The pool was probably working. I crawl back. Minutes pass...hours.

_Stay_. As if i had a choice.

—•—•

"Bella." Alice.

I jump up. I grab the towel and run to the door. "Alice."

I don't know how they open the door. I never see. Relief flows through me. Like finally seeking comfort in an endless dream. Like Charlie, picking me up from school when I got sick. You're chin trembles involuntarily...because you're finally ok. I've been locked here all night.

"Come," she calls. She envelops me in a blanket. She's impeccable, as usual. Her white coat still wrapped around expensive clothing. "How do you feel? Your arm should be well now." She looks in my eyes. I nod. But the desperation in my face doesn't go unnoticed. She looks away and pulls me through the hallway.

"Alice, Charlie." She doesn't respond. "He's going to find him. He'll kill him..."

She pulls and she ignores me.

"Alice!" I force her to stop. She looks ahead but I see her face. Her jaw tightens. She holds back an angry huff. "You swore you'd help! You said I'd be safe!"

Her blazing eyes cut to mine. "If you dare pull something like that again, I will be sure to leave you. Do you understand, Bella?" Her face is stern. She's not talking about Charlie.

"I didn't say it lightly when I said Dr. Cullen would do anything..._anything _his crazed mind would want. You've jeopardize all our lives! If I were you, I'd keep quiet and do as I say. Now _do _as I say!" I'm stunned quiet. She pulls me by my arm. Her gentleness has disappeared. I don't know her.

"What..." I pull away. I don't see her swift move before it comes. Her hand cups my chin hard. Her face an inch away. I'm pinned to the wall by her elbow.

"Listen to me, and listen to me closely. There is nothing you can do, there is nothing _I _can do. I am following orders and you will follow mine. You don't know what you're asking. You don't _know_. But you're right about one thing, Bella, I said I'd keep _you_ safe. I didn't say anyone else." She pauses to take a breath, her hold loosens. "Just...have faith. That's all I ask." Her eyes frighten me. They're real and they don't lie. I can't respond.

We quickly find a closed door and she pulls me in. It's next to the door we left. "Your room," she says. It's crowded. A bed sits in a dusty space surrounded by book shelves. A desk in a corner. A full length mirror with black stains stands lopsided. The wood is old and detailed, like an old library. The air is filled with the smell of old books. "It's either this, or an empty room. At least you'll have things to occupy your mind," she says about the dust-filled leather bonds. "The other room was Edward's. Now you have your own._" _

_Edward's. I slept in a killer's bed. _Shake away my heavy head ..._and I hate him._

I turn to watch her walk around, opening a small door by a shelf. A closet. She pulls out clothes and drops them on the bed. "You're not allowed to leave this floor. You'd have more privileges if you hadn't been so... distrusting. You'll be escorted if you need to be at the lab.

"If your wounds hurt, the pools are assessable. Use the larger pool for minor pains. The narrow pools are for fatal wounds, therefore, has a more concentrated formula. No fabrics, they'll disintegrate." She's become mechanical. I stand in the middle of the room watching her gaze on everything but me.

"Alice."

"As a warning, so you won't grow weary, we won't fetch you until tomorrow. You have a meeting with Dr. Cullen later in the week. A proper appointment." She looks at me when she says this and walks towards the hallway door.

"Alice, please," I plead. I walk after her and she's fast.

She pauses. He head is down. Her back is facing me and she's holding a heavy door open. "It's for your own good," and she walks out. I run after her. The cement floor cold against my bare feet. It's too late.

"Just promise me they won't hurt him! Promise me!" And she's gone. Bolts lock on the other side.

I stare at the doors. They turn blurry.

Now I stay. I never had a choice.

One day becomes two. No one comes. A bang on the double doors alerts my meals. I have to get to it before the rodents do. I leave them a crumb or two. My only companions.

I read and roam my room. Old things. Antiques. They're full of dust and webs.

Two days become three. I lie in bed watching the sun reflect off crystal pieces of an old chandelier. They hang by a narrow window I can't fit through (of course, I've tried many times, many different ways). I hung them there when I found them in a cupboard. I found a lot of things. Useless things. Things that can't help me pick locks or open windows.

_Hamlet_ is in the midst of all the encyclopedias and medical volumes. I read of his anguish. It gives me strength. I read of his revenge. It gives me strength. I understood why he went through great measures, but I never related. I can. I do now. I would do what he did... in a heartbeat. I understand now and it gives me strength.

I wait and I wait. Alice doesn't come. My nerves are twisting. A meeting with Cullen. My mind wanders to what might be. What I will do. What I would scream and sayl. I make up scenarios. I find a gun. I break out. Charlie is free. I find _him _and I channel _Hamlet. Revenge. _

Not likely. Hours turns it into _impossibility._

Like I used to do well, my job, I run through questions. Lots of questions. I'm overwhelmed. I'm angry. I fall asleep on _Hamlet_.

Fourth day. The strength turns into weariness. The book is halfway, lying open on the floor. Alice was right. I did grow weary. And she lied. My skin crawls and I want to climb the walls. I pace till my feet blister.

When the doors bang, I run. I yell. Emmett laughs. His smoke seeps through. I curse and bang until my hands are bruised. My legs are long gone. They're over used from kicking yesterday, and today—at breakfast and lunch. He leaves without a word.

I'm defeated and I crawl back to the dark pool. Steam rises and I watch. My toe nails bleed. My soles stained black. My skin is blue and violet. My fingers dirty. They ache. But I'm numb.

Fifth day. I find paper and an ink bottle. I write with an old felt tip pen. It takes me three tries until the nib doesn't blot the page. I write and write about all that has happened. So I'll remember. So that someone would believe me. My days at the office seem years ago. I miss it. Angela and Mike. I daydream for hours. Hours of what could've been. If they're still looking for me. If they worry or care. If they're alive.

Lunch. I twist my wrist. Another punch to the door. Emmett pauses and I scream for him. He sighs. He walks away. I lie by the door for hours. Watching nothing. Watching sunlight turn to evening. Spent. The food is spoiled. My companions nibble and they deserve it. They've dealt with my whining and kicking and screaming.

And Alice lied.

After I slip-on the two pieces of rubber garments, I drag myself to the pool. It's night time. I can tell from the glow of the moon coming through my window. I close my eyes. I drift as I lean on a wall. I'm not afraid of the water anymore. It's dark and I can't see my legs or toes. It took me hours to convince myself nothing lives in it at first. It's nothing now. The water doesn't move. Candles flicker over the slight waves where they swivel. I've kept them burning. I ignite the distinguished ones with a twig I found. Their heat warms the cold cement walls. My skin prickles. I close my eyes and I let go.

Minutes pass... hours.

A blurry dream. Charlie is free. I'm sixteen. A boy knocks the door and I'm off to a dance. Charlie scowls. Charlie is being overprotective. I laugh because we've known him. Our dads are family friends. The boy is wide eyed and nervous. I hold his hand.

I look down. My other hand is covered with Charlie's. _Mace. _I roll my eyes but smile. He just cares. He loves me and he cares. I reach on my toes and kiss his cheek. His mustache twitches. He whispers. His face is gentle. I know what he said. It repeats and repeats in my head. _You're beautiful, just like your mother...you look just like your mother._ My eyes go blurry.

I walk out. The boy at my side. I walk down the steps. I look up at his face. But it's too late, he doesn't catch me. Everything slows and I know what's coming. My muscles tense. An eerie feeling. I'm falling and falling and...

Splash.

I start awake. My eyes snap open. The water moved.

It bubbles and whirls and _it moved_. A towel appeared at the far side of the pool—the deep end. My heart leaps in a nano second. I look for the only stairs made to climb out the pool. It's too far.

The water moves and moves. A wave points towards me. I turn to reach for the stairs. It's too late.

Hands. I freeze.

My breath hitches. All of my blood drains from my head. My palms grip the ledge behind me ready to climb out, but it's no use. Hands find my ankles...and they move. Up over my calves. Up behind my knees. I buckle. My thighs strain to stay up on my toes. Hands move over them. I begin to kick away and bend my knee to climb, but hands hold my waist.

My widened eyes watch as dark hair emerges from the water. Up and over the waves reveals a face. His lashes pile against his cheeks. His nose and a red gash. He emerges and water trails down his lips and stiff jaw. Around his shoulders and arms.

He towers over me. He's close and his bare chest and ink look darker with the flickering glow. I forget. I forget how alive it looks wrapped around his skin. His hold on my waist tightens and his eyes peer into my wide orbs.

Edward is still angry.

I let out a hitched breath from a strangled swallow.

He lets go of my left and runs soaked, red gashed knuckled fingers, through his wet hair. My hip flinches at the touch of his thigh. I press my bottom to the cool wall as far away as I can. My heels fight to not slip under water. Dark waves rise to his hipbone. He doesn't say a word as his eyes close. Dark circles frame them. He slouches deeper and opens them. He lets go.

I look to the right. The stairs are too far. My conscience replays in a flash a scene in my mind. The one I've created and rehearsed all week—of how I'd hit him, of how I'd use the strength I found in _Hamlet. _A flash—but then it's gone. I look at his hands grip the the ledge by my ribs. I'm trapped. I didn't plan for this.

"You're in my pool." His voice travels over the steam rising around us. the room seems smaller now. My throat bobs. He dips his head to one side and glares. "Get out." I flinch. He hisses between his teeth.

Fucking plan. Fucking Hamlet. Fucking strength. They betray me and I flinch. His presence disarms every cell and nerve.

I hate him. And I _hate_ him.

I glare right back. I stretch my neck to find his darkened eyes. I cross my arms over my chest. My forearms skim his skin. "Step the hell away from me," I spit. His nostrils flare.

"You're in my way." He doesn't move. And hell if I'll move.

"I was here first," and fuck you.

"Out!"

"I will not." I play calm.

He shifts. His face twists for a split second. He's in pain. My insides soar just as quick.

But then he smirks. My eyes switch from his left eye to his right. And then he's close. Too close. He leans in slowly. I try not to lean away but gulp. I watch his shoulder muscles move. I stand my ground. My arms uncross and I find the ledge behind me with tense elbows. Heat radiates off him. Fire.

"One more word out of your mouth, I'll add thirty more minutes to how I'll make you pay," he whispers. His breath on my ear. I don't know what he means. He switches ears, "You didn't think you'd get away with it, did you? You'll pay your debt. Whatever I want." I feel his lips smile with a pause, "Just like Charlie." I snap. Heat rises from my very core. I find his eyes through hooded orbs. Something erupts.

My fist pulls back and I snap. My wrist has healed. His face is Emmett at the door. His face is the solid surface I practiced every swing on...for this. He reels back. His cheek turns. The hard blow catches him by surprise. I see it in his eyes.

His chest is next. His stomach. I kick. I punch. I go blind. "_What did you do to him? What did you do to my father? Fucking murderer!_" I'm screaming and I hate him. He staggers back. I lean on my elbows behind me and my foot emerges towards his other cheek. He bends from that blow. My knee finds his stomach. "_You fucking..._" and I twine my fingers together and bang the air out of his lungs from his back. "..._I'll kill you!"_

I'm fucking soaring. He's under water and my adrenaline surges. I dip to find him. To beat and beat until I loose it all.

Hands. I'm surging but my muscles go tense. Hands find my ankles again.

I see black.

I'm pulled and pulled. My arms can't swing hard enough. My legs can't kick hard enough. A hand on my neck and surging turns to panic. I don't see him. Darkness swallows me up and I see nothing.

He pulls me deeper and I can't find oxygen. I dig my nails into his hand. It's too much weight. I panic. My desperate limbs try and find a ledge, a wall... anything. Nothing.

I gulp water and I'm drowning. He pulls me up. Air.

I choke and purge all of it back up. My hair sticks to my eyes and face. I still can't see him. I get two breaths and he dunks me back in. I didn't have a second to brace myself. I swallow water on my third breath. He's relentless and I _hate_ him.

Air. I gulp. My chest constricts, his presses to my back. I reach high and my fingers find his face blindly. I fight. I slam a fist against the hard jaw, neck—anything. Again and again. He pushes and it's black again. His fist squeezes my neck. Like lead. I can't pull it away.

Minutes. Torture. He doesn't stop.

I can't count the times he pulls me up and pushes back down. I choke and I drown...over and over again. It burns. Just when I feel I'll slip, no bubbles of air is left, he pulls. My arms grow limp. My legs can't find the ground underneath. My head is limp on his scratched up forearm. And he dunks and pushes—beyond my surrender.

The pool's wall slams against my back. It sends all the water I've swallowed back up. It's black and It tastes of bile, copper and chemicals. He lets go. I slip under, weak. I catch myself with failing limps and he's in front of me again. Trapped.

I heave and cough. Black water seeps from my nose, mouth—everywhere. Dizzy, I find my bearings against warm hard skin. I pull away. I cower towards the cold hard cement behind me. It's safe. I hold on with blurry eyes.

He spits out blood. It trails down his chin, throat and chest. His teeth are coated in crimson and he's growling words. I can't hear. I wipe water and hair off my face and I'm panting.

He's red with blood and fury.

Water drains out of my ears and then I can hear. "..._and you defend him!_ He lead them to you _and you defend him!_" His words send drops of his blood flying. I flinch. Our foreheads are glued and he's against my face. He's yelling. "Your father is a fucking traitor, Swan! He sold your life for money! I take down every man he sends you _and you defend him!_" I can't respond. I push at his chest to look in his eyes. They don't lie. They're fiery yellow.

"What..." I whimper. His heavy breaths leave his nostrils in angry puffs.

"Lieutenant Charlie Swan was payed to give up his daughter—his own flesh and blood! That's right, _Bella_, your fucking hero is your enemy."

"No," I shake my dizzy head and I won't believe it. It sends me reeling to one side. I can't focus and my brain in heavy. My trembling hand finds his mouth and I won't accept it. "Shut it... shut your mouth!" I push and he doesn't move. He stands still and he doesn't stop.

"Yes," he hisses shaking me off. "He cleaned up all the mess. He set up a kidnap in a hospital. He wrote up road disasters as _accidents._ He hid a blazing truck—remember that one? Did you ask him about that one?"

"SHUT UP!" I cover my ears and he's wrong. He lies.

"What did he say, Swan? He lied, didn't he?" he shakes his head, "He cleaned it all up for money and he turned his cheek." He pauses and I remember now. I don't say a word but I remember.

Charlie was nervous. Charlie was evasive. He didn't help me when I ran to him. He said I was crazy. I was hurt and I remember now because I almost believed him. I thought it might've all been a dream. But he fidgeted and dismissed me. He didn't help.

I can't find the words.

"He sold you," he whispers. Our foreheads touch and I can't breathe.

My life is a lie.

Flashes of moments alone with him seep in. In the Hospital. At home. His touch to my cheek when he said he loved me. I try and find the truth in them. He was overprotective. He gave me mace. He said I was beautiful. But my life is a lie.

"Get out of my pool," and he's done. He's serious and he's done.

A sob escapes my chest. "I hate you."

"Out!" but he doesn't move. The stairs are still far. I push against his lead-heavy forearm and he doesn't let me pass. I look up at hatred. He doesn't plan to move. I look around. I look back. It's the only way out. My palms find the ledge behind me. I push against my spine and fall back in. I'm too dizzy from all the consumed chemical water. From lack of oxygen.

He's too close and it's too high. Our fronts collide. I try two more times and he just glares. This is punishment. I want to get away but can't do it fast enough.

My arms shake on the third try and my knees bend. My feet need leverage. They kick against nothing in the water. I can't fall in again.

I don't think and my foot finds his hip. I push. My skin burns under his. He just stares. I can't look at his face and mine heats red.

I fold my legs in. I'm almost out. But they skim his forearms still locked at my sides...and it burns. It's silent and the painful difficulty is awkward. It rips a sob through my chest. He'll never make it easy. I know this as I run out.

"Two hours, Swan. Wait for me in your room." he calls after me.

I regret and I grind my teeth at my plan to find Carlisle's door. I regret the very moment I used and hurt my wrist again. I regret.

I run faster because I believe him. Whatever he'll do.

* * *

**A/N: I see you adding and I thank thee! Much hugs. Please share the love. Thanks for the reviews. They're antidote to my disorder! While you wait for next chap, Read: jayisuncouth's, Red Corn Poppy. :-)**


	12. Chapter 11: Hamlet

**Happy Labor day to USA folks. And just a Happy day to some. :-) Hope you're all well. Thank you for your reviews. I've heard from some who never reviewed, it was a pleasure! I'd Love to hear from you all again. Thanks! **

**I don't own Twilight. I just own a Mini and my FF reading device—iPhone.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — Watch him buckle _dat_  
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**_Sound: How to destroy Angels – The Space Between  
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**—•—•**

**Chapter 11 – Hamlet**

Two fucking hours. My gums hurt from biting and grinding my teeth into my pillow. The screams are inaudible to him, hiding. But i can feel the vibrations from sobs of agony absorbing through the fabric.

I am screaming.

My tears soak the sheets. My fingers are white with fist-fulls. I'm dying inside. Little by little. This is killing me. All of it. I want out of this prison but I can't find the door, surface, window...hole. Nothing. I hear the water splashing and moving a room away and I'm in prison.

I collapsed here, at the edge of this ragged old bed. My bed. Kneeling beside the lopsided nightstand. Cold legs on the dirty cement floor. A sweatshirt made it around my shoulders, but i collapsed before I got to the pants. I was dressing with hurried, shaking hands when a scream ripped through. I can't. This is too much.

Never in my life have I ever longed for my mother so much. She was the second best at taking my fears away. She was gone so I relied on the first best. The_ first best_. The _former_ first best. The one who I can't mention his name, even in thoughts. The man who I called father. I don't think I could if i tried. Instantly, _he _became someone else. A stranger. All the memories are tainted. Each one flashes through my mind. Tainted. Ruined. They don't feel the same.

Why should i believe? Why should i not?

I'm confused.

My heaving chest quivers but I'm silent. I don't want him to hear me. My eyes squeeze shut and I shut out the world, this room, him_. _I dwell in an emptiness that is deep and endless. A pit. There is nothing there. Nothing there because everyone has left me. I am alone and I'm just left with emptiness and fear. Where did it all go? How did it slip out of my fingers... between each crack of my heart? Everything that was my balance.

But why should I believe? And why should I not?

I want to hurl all contents from my stomach. It's heavy and I gag. I sit up suddenly, letting go of the pillow and sheets. My hand covers my mouth. The feeling so strong I brace to run. The bathroom is too far for this. I won't make it.

A hitched breath stops it, but the tears won't. They're seamless in a trail down my cheeks to my sweater. My nape is throbbing and I feel faint. My hand finds the floor before me and I breathe. Gulps of air. The only thing that hasn't left me. I have air. I take in until the queasiness stops.

I manage to spit out the excess of what could've been worse, on the floor. I wipe my lips with a sleeve. But it's no use, the tears flow like rain against the window that was too small to help. I breathe and I breathe.

Hours. It's been too long. He's coming.

I need time. I need days... weeks... years to swallow and digest this. I need time to think more. To hate. To be angry. To grieve and cry until dry. To be anything but real and awake. I want to lie in a numb state, body and mind. But he's coming and I'm not ready. I can't move from where I kneel. I don't' have the strength. It left with _Hamlet _and his death. This is the only spot on this cold floor where it makes any sense.

I hold onto sheets again and bury my face in the pillow. I watch the open door. I didn't bother closing it. I watch the dim light for any movement. But it's blurry from blinding wetness.

The grinding of teeth continues until I space out. Until my companions roam aimlessly, quietly finding the remains from my tray. I envy them. They don't know what's coming. They live. I crumble.

He's late.

I watch and watch the door to the bathroom across the hall. It's almost closed. I can see the sink and mirror I use every morning. The mold and grime, the dirty tiles. Nothing moves. I watch the mysterious door to the left of the bathroom door. The only one that never opened even after I tried for days. It's eye level and wide, it doesn't reach the ground. A built in cabinet. I tried and it never budged. My finger got jammed. I banged on it for a while out of anger for that. The plastered wall under it is still marked with my foot sole.

It's like the space morphs into thick tension in a second. The light coming from the pool room doorway dims. My thoughts stop. My companions run away. They're appetite is ruined from a presence. I know how they feel. I fear him too. They run and I want to run with them. My heart would break at their interrupted feast, but it's too occupied slamming in my chest. My forearm by my neck feels the pulse of a death sentence.

He's outside my door.

I see his leg muscles contract with his confident stride. I don't look up when he stops. I just see as far up as the hem of the towel covering his kneecaps. Drips of water pools on the floor under his bare feet. He stands there and he's facing me. Nothing is uttered for long torturous minutes.

He turns and walks away, towards the bathroom. A staggered breath I didn't know I was holding leaves me. Relief flows through me and I look up surprised. I see him now. His broad back and tattoo over his leftshoulder blade. He pushes through the cracked bathroom door. He reaches blindly for the light and a glow brightens my dark room and hallway. He knows his way around.

The towel sitting low on his hips moves. A silent intake of air enters my nose. I freeze. The bathroom disaster from a week ago floods my mind and I remember. His taut figure and tense demeanor. Bare. He isn't shy.

He lays the towel over the sink in a bundle and he's wearing a rubber garment. His thumb tugs on it and it begins to descend off the hip that burned my skin. I blink. But just as quickly, the door closes enough to cover him. The stream of water from the shower trickles on the stained porcelain tub i can't see from where I cower. Steam fogs the mirror. It ghosts into my room slowly until it grows warmer around me.

I have yet to move. The tears that I can't make stop flow freely. They're the only sign that there's still life in me. Not a frozen statue. I melt into the sheets again, silently praying this would stop. He's stalling. My anxiety builds.

The pipes protest as he turns off the knob. The towel is gone from view and I can't breathe. A belt clinks as he emerges in dark jeans and nothing else. Steam follows behind him. His chest glistens. His hair dark in disarray. His fingers loop his belt and buckle as he struts like he owns the damned ground he walks on. He doesn't hesitate to step in to my room... _my_ space.

My teeth grind when his foot kicks _Hamlet _by the stool he's reaching for. Like it doesn't mean a thing. I watch him and I _now _refuse to move.

"Up," he demands and he has begun.

I don't say anything. My eyes close and I'm pretending. I'm ignoring him.

"On your feet," he isn't going to give up.

I won't either.

I only hear his bare feet paddle on the floor hastily. I'm flung like a rag doll. My eyes snap open. The bed rattles on the cement floor. My leg collides with it from his pull. His fist is around my collar. I'm on my feet that I wasn't sure would work. I look away not wanting to see his face. My gaze falls on the cotton pants lying on the bed that I never slipped on. I grimace. Leaving myself exposed, feeling like an idiot.

Before my fingers reach for it, he's pulling me. And I forget. It doesn't matter. He's going to hurt me and he doesn't care. I'm flung into the stool awaiting me. My breath catches from the force. It tilts and I fall. His hand hooks my elbow and I'm righted. He grab the stool from under my thighs and pushes until it's right. It burns. My sweater barely covers my gray underwear. I pull on it and I don't look up. My back crashes against the wall behind me in heaves and I'm seething.

"Sit up straight. Back against the wall," he orders. I don't know what he's trying to do. I look up at him through my tangled hair confused. He answers by pushing back on my shoulders. The moment his foot reaches back and kicks the stool from under me I know. I let out a whispered obscenity and I know.

I'm back in highschool in PE. The gym teacher made everyone stay in a seated position against the wall. Nothing holds you up. Nothing but strength and will. Your thighs burned within a minute. Kids would groan and complain until they'd drop on the ground. Some held off more than others. Some wouldn't last for more than a few seconds. My fists clench knowing I was one of the latter. I'm back in highschool, yet this is worse. So much worse.

I want to scream.

"You have one hour..._and a half. _If you fall, you start over. Understood?" he's an asshole and he's inches from my face. I want to gauge his green eyes out with my jagged nails. His lips are pale with anger. I see a scab growing where my fist connected. My wrist twitches. And I should've hit him harder. I glare and he backs off. He lets go of my shoulders. I immediately feel the lack of his hands holding up part of my weight.

My nostrils flare with every angry huff. I already feel uncomfortable. It's only been seconds. I was one of the weaker kids and I curse myself.

He punishes. But he punishes in ways that doesn't bruise. I really, _really, _want to scream.

And I do.

—•—•

"Two fucking hours. Again," he orders like a broken record. "We can do this all night, Swan."

Pages flip. The sound of rough paper under a heavy thumb. He's lying on _my _bed. His fingers are all over _my Hamlet_. Earlier, he flipped the pillow from the tear soaked side to the dry. He bundled it under his neck comfortably. His long legs are bent lazily over the rustled sheets. Now, he waits. Waits for me to fall on the floor for the tenth time with a loud thud. My tail bone is raw. My thighs are lead and they quiver. I lift myself slowly off the dirty floor again.

My body shakes violently. I fight to keep up. I fight to keep my grunts and whimpers to myself. But I fail. I can't. I squat against the wall again. It's coated with my sweat. My fists are twisting on the flesh of my thighs. It doesn't relieve the stress. This is tearing me apart.

A weak, defeated growl fills the silence. And it doesn't come from him. He flips another page with a damp thumb that reached his tongue. It doesn't phase him.

My conscience screams at me asking why I'm letting this happen. Why I'm putting up with his shit. But every time I fall his muscles tense. He looks at me through narrowed jade eyes. He's serious.

"Edward," I plead. His name sounds strange aloud. I've never said it. I detest it. I hate it and him and his last name. I'm at my last straw and I'm shameless. "Please..."

"I haven't read this one since I left it here." His thumb finds his mouth again. He ignores me. "It helped me," he chuckles dryly. This is the most I've ever heard him speak—and It isn't a threat. "Is it helping you?" he asks glancing over the book. I'm about ready to fall again. I pant.

"Fuck off," That won't help with pleading. I know it. I grimace.

"Hm. Guess it is," he says looking down at the book. He scratches a spot on his abdomen and he's comfortable. I'd give up two days worth of Emmett's tray calls to be in _my_ bed again. "Use to be my room," he confesses. _His _bed_. His _book.

_A days worth. _

"I, uh... Carlisle gave me the room when I got here. I found this between the encyclopedias." Seriously, he's _talking?_ I can't hold back a huff and an eye roll. He's socially incompetent. Cruel. He has never initiated a conversation the whole time I've been around him and now... _now _he speaks. My fist wants to find his face again.

"How generous of him," I manage through my teeth. I vaguely notice his mouth lift at the corner. I don't care. I look back at my trembling thighs.

He's quiet. I can tell he won't speak again. My damn curious instincts tells me I'm ruining the opportunity. The loophole for answers to his mystery. I yearn to know anything. It tugs at the back of my mind.

I fall. He looks up. Narrowed greens**.** I tense, rolling to my knees and lift back up with a whimper. Curiosity kills. I hate myself, "What? He found and kept you as his pet?" I try him. My back hits the wall to squat. Fuck my life.

He watches my legs shaking and looks away. His mouths opens for his thumb, "No, that's what we have you for." Bastard. My chin presses to my chest. I don't know why I bothered to try.

Silence lingers. I don't know how long it's been, but I find a niche. I clear mind and the null in the room helps me focus on accepting. Accepting pain like it belongs to my body. I take deep breathes and chant acceptance.

_Accept. Accept it. Accept the pain. _

I start.

"O, that this too solid flesh would melt, Thaw and resolve itself into a dew. Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd his canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world..." he whispers, his voice velvet and far away. He reads aloud, but to himself. "Weary, stale, flat and unprofitable world. I related to that part the most," he says. _To me?_

I blink rapidly. My mouth goes slack. He pulls me from my focus. I look at him in surprise. He doesn't look up.

"I used to be where you are, you know. You're not the only one who woke up to confusion...your life changed...not knowing why," he flips a page. "I've been there."

My mouth opens and closes. No words.

"But one thing's for sure, you have it easy, _Bella_," he continues. He glances at me. His emphasis on my name cutting like a knife like his eyes do. My brows knit in a line. _Easy? _

"Did you know Carlisle found me?" he asks interrupting my thoughts. Alice's words flash in my mind. How Carlisle saved him, her... all of them. I attentively listen.

"I was in a cell. Wires were attached all over me. I was...used." He blinks at the memory I see in his eyes. _Hamlet _folds in his hands. One of them reaches for his marked shoulder. _The vines. _He moves to rest his elbow on a bent knee. He leans his chin on his forearm. His hand stays. His knuckles are white as he digs his fingers on the darkened skin. His eyes focused on the sheets. He's in another place.

"They would lock us in a dome. The walls were made of metal...no way out. They'd leave us there for hours alone and... the walls would open. Suddenly, every movement you made had a consequence," he pauses. He hesitates. "A web caught my shoulder. It had ten times the force of a taser. I wasn't fast enough."

I'm holding my breath. His words float in the space between us. I'm afraid if i move, he'll stop. I'm afraid if I move,the atmosphere will change and pluck him out of the moment. _I'm desperate. _My body protests but I ignore it. I won't move now...not now.

"I was a soldier for a special force unit." He pauses. His throat bobs heavily. "The government owned us. I thought it was the best decision I ever made in my life. Anything was better than sleeping in the streets," a crooked smirk lifts, "One day, I woke up strapped to a bed." His eyes find mine. I'm frozen. "Funny. Sort of how you woke up, isn't it?"

The memories of the day I woke here swims in my mind. The cold metal table. The straps. I screamed. Someone yelled from the shadows. I stopped.

I look back at him. I remember. The memories probably came rushing back to him and he'd had enough. How many times has he saved me from something? I'll never know.

I just nod in response to his question.

I shift on the wall. I'm cheating. He's looking away and I'm hoping he doesn't notice. I let out a sigh of relief.

"You're cheating," he says suddenly. His tone stern. I flinch looking up. "Again."

_Shit._

I want to cry...and break his lip again. I kneel to straighten again—all while glaring at him. My bones crack soundly.

"Like I said, Swan..." and we're back to formal. He continues. His expression changes. "You have it easy. Stop complaining. Stop whining. It makes you look weak." With that, he settles back on my pillow and he gives _Hamlet _his full attention. I roll my eyes.

Hours it seems. I don't know how long I've been pushing against the wall. The moon shines through the window faithfully. The same moon that shines over someplace I'd rather be. Any place but here. I become delirious. The pain is beyond acceptance. Beyond control. Everything is quiet. He's quiet. I'm past the loud groans and whimpering. I keep silent. _Weak. _My teeth grind. My mouth quivers from the pain.

I think. Thoughts pour over more thoughts.

I think of his words. I hate myself for wanting to know more. It sounded terrifying. Inhuman. Unreal. But the truth is in his eyes and on his skin. Yet, he left me with more questions. Maybe he's right. Maybe this is easy. I think of all the moments he was there and I didn't know he was. The moments he was there when Charlie wasn't.

_Charlie. _My eyelids brim with wetness.

And then I think of Charlie. The many times he was there... yet wasn't_._ The many times I felt safe... yet I wasn't. The sweet memories dissolve into lies. The wetness spills and I can't stop it.

Why should I believe what Charlie has done? Why should I not? The tears won't stop. He left me. I'm alone. My fear is knowing I'll never have what I did have. It's gone—dissolved. The _pain_ dissolves me into nothing. It's too much. Everything is too much.

I let go.

My legs give in and I'm on the floor. A sob escapes my throat and I don't realize I'm calling for Charlie out loud. Hands find me again. Warmth. I'm off the floor and I'm floating in warmth.

_My_ bed. _My_ pillow. I bury my face in it when I'm laid over it. I fill it with tears again. I vaguely notice him hovering over me. I didn't finish and I don't care. But he's not yelling.

The bed sinks beside my legs and warm hands. He rubs the soreness away. I sob and his fingers dig into my skin. I can't suppress the sigh of relief. My muscles prickle under his palms. Over my thighs and down my bare legs. Shame. I bend them to flinch away but he pulls hard and settles them back into place. He stays and I have no choice.

I give up. I just cry because I give up.

He pulls me and I'm on my back. I bring the pillow with me, pressed to my face. Hiding. I don't want to look at his face. _Coward._ Warmth spreads over my quivering thighs and sore knees. His strong hands travels slowly over my skin, kneading, pulling. The heat from a blush travels up my neck.

An alarm in my head tells me this is out of place. This is not right... _but God it feels good_. His palm finds the back of my knees and he bends them, one at a time. All the quivering slows. My muscles stretch and loosen. I'm hiccuping staggered breathes and each pass of his hands calms my nerves.

"Turn around," he says after a warm ache free delicious moment. His hands insistent and pushing. I hate that I don't want him to stop. _Stupid. _I turn on my stomach again. I chance a peek over the corner of my pillow, just one eye—and I can't believe why he'd do this.

But I'm not stopping him.

The bed moves. He's back again. His hands are occupied. My eyes grow wide. I try to sit up to protest. _Not this. I won't let him._

"Don't waste more of my damned time." He's angry again. "Turn," he demands.

"There's no way..." Over my dead body. He flicks the glass bottle, faces it down and sticks the needle in. I watch the clear fluid seep and fill.

"What the hell is it?" I demand when he doesn't speak.

"Cocktail."

"No! Alice is supposed to..."

"You still owe me, Swan! Now turn the fuck around!" he interrupts me. His eyes blazing. He's ready with the needle in hand. I cringe just looking at it.

_Damn him all the way to hell._

A huff turns into a sob and he's waiting. I turn. I hate him. I squeeze my eyes shut and this is damn inappropriate. I squeeze tighter and tense when I feel him lift my sweater. He reaches for the waist of my underwear. His fingers pull and my right cheek is exposed. The heat of my blush has surpassed my neck and beyond. I feel cool moisture from an alcohol pad to sterilize. The prick. I jump. "God!" Too hard—on purpose. _The prick. _

He stands without a word and crumbles the deposits in his hand. The other reaches for the bed sheet at my feet. He lifts it over my exposed half. He turns and heads for the door. Darkness envelops the room. He switched the light off. I look over my shoulder at him. He's still standing by the door. Moonlight washes over his bare chest and dark ink. He looks terrifying. Like a bad dream lingering even after you force yourself awake. His eyes bore into mine.

"Charlie's still alive." he says. He walks out.

I watch the empty doorway, the shadows, the space where he came and went. I forget for how long. It was all a dream it seems. I tell myself this. A dream and I must have awaken. It was frightening.

Edward's confession lingers. The faint aching pain is still there and I know..._I know_ it wasn't a dream. I doze restlessly with whispered prayers of relief and gratefulness. Charlie is safe. He is all I have left and still—deeply—I still love him.

—•—•  
—•—•—•

* * *

**A/N: I was one of the kids who fell within a minute in PE. :-/ Have you ever tried this? If not, try it. You'll grow thighs of steel. It's a BITCH and a half. Imagine doing it for 2 hours! Poor Bella. My bro was _my_ meanward. We'd make bets and compete. Don't know why, I'd always loose. :-) **

**I see you adding! Thank you. Don't be shy, feedback is appreciated!**


	13. Chapter 12: Waves

**A/N: I know, I know. :-/ *runs for cover* Here you go! I'm on Nanowrimo this month so I have a 'push'. Ohh life. Thank you a BILLION for your support and your adds. I've had like 20 extra this weekend. Just curious... where do you get this link? The adds astounded me cuz they were out of the ordinary! I'm not complainin'! ;-)**

**And um... *holds heart* Did you see? Sheer blue linen shirt covered pecks on dark haired Edward. *cries* I didn't sleep last night. That's alll I gotta say about that. DEPRESSSSEDD.  
**

**I don't own Twilight. I just own a Mini and my FF reading device—iPhone.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — _Unfortunately, he leaves it on_  
**

**—•—•—•**

**_Sound: _****_Portishead - Half Day Closing_**

**—•—•**

**Chapter 12 - Waves**

"Isabella, what have you done?"

A bead of sweat runs down my forehead, my temple, down to my cheek. I let one trickle down my lid. I will not blink. My parted lips are dry with adrenaline huffing through. I'm standing, legs parted. I will not move. I have the upper hand.

And I've had enough.

I'm not the girl who once ran in fear. Ran from her home, her family, her life. No. I will not run anymore. I will fight now because I am different. I am different because today everything that I have ever believed has changed.

"You will not win," he warns but I do not waiver. I will never give in.

My nostrils flare. My cheeks shake with gritted teeth. They grind with his every word. I'm zoned out. Every thing's a blur. His office disappeared into grains of sand and blown away over the crimson carpet. It's just me and him. I stand awakened. Knowing, that the man cornered in front of me, who glares with concealed fear in his blue eyes, will die today. By my hands.

I lift a palm to the barrel and pull, feeling the metal lock. Loaded. His blue eyes never leave mine. I see them grow wider but he recovers quickly. His eyes narrow. He tries to hide his surprise. The same surprise in Emmett's eyes who I left behind, lying wounded on the hallway floor.

"Now," My voice is horsed from crying. But the tears are long gone. Just as all control went along with them. I sound unfamiliar to myself.

"Never. You're mine now, sweetheart. And this..." his index finger twirls between us, "you _will_ regret."

My arms shake but not from nerves, but rage. The heavy Ivory tusk sits in my hands, heavier than it looked in Edward's hands. Its metal as slick as it looked laying on the bathroom floor that day. But this... this feels as though I knew this moment would come. And it has. It is mine now. It belongs to no one but me. My tool. My gun. The trigger never felt so... _exhilarating._

"Regret has no part in this," I say. He doesn't say a word. His eyes says it all. "Now, _Carlisle._"

He chuckles humorlessly. "Stubborn. Just as your mother." The mention of her name sends flames like sulfur through my veins. My outstretched arms strain as I grip the Ivory tighter. "But yes, just as brave." he takes a step towards me nodding. "I remember. Only difference in intellect is... _stupidity_. Stupid Bella, doing stupid things." He takes another step. I back away, the boots on my feet drag slowly.

"What have you done? Hm? I gave you enough. I gave you what you wanted." he says after his eyes move up from my feet.

"_Don't._..move."

"It's a shame, you know?" he continues, ignoring me, "To watch Charlie mourn the life of a loved one again. Watching your lifeless body being dropped..." his fists open, fingers wide in demonstration, "...right in to the cold ground. He'll be so sad." He mockingly frowns, his hands join against his chest.

He takes another step. I tense as he looks up in realization, eyes blazing, "But of course, he won't be! As a matter of fact, he'd gladly pick up a shovel and dig you a deeper hole, wouldn't he?"

I shake my head. Silence stretches. The corner of my lips lift in a smirk. His eyes follow and _his_ instantly falls. The thrilling feeling of his words falling short from its intended sting, soars. He is so wrong. He is so wrong I can't, for the life of me, suppress the eerie calm flowing through me. I almost want to laugh. But I don't. Instead, my index curls around the trigger perfectly. _Meant to be, meant for me_.

I let _Ivory_ do the laughing.

—••—• **3 days ago** •—••—

Your eyes open. It's one of those mornings when you don't know where you are. It is proven that when your eyes open to daylight, a layer of your inner cornea burns away. It starts new and fresh. New eyes to a new day.

Some might say a new view and perspective. But really, you're laying in the same bed, same room, same house, where you fell asleep in. A normal, regular day to your routine. The feeling of security and knowing flows through and you're suddenly ok. Everything is the same. Familiarity. Warmth.

For me, not today.

Today I awake cold. Freezing. Completely soaked... and not in a good way.

I'm floating and warmth wraps around me like a blanket. Skin. Scent of a man. I sigh contently as a white dreamy daze fades away as I wake. I curl my body around the warmth and hold on to it around my arms. I float and it's almost euphoric. The bounce and soft footsteps reminds me of home. When Charlie would pick my sleeping form off the couch and put me to bed. Or when I wished Charlie would let me sleep five more minutes before waking me up for school. I can hear his footsteps outside my room as he made his coffee and got ready for his day.

But this is better. My nose even finds a crook of a warm neck. Definitely scent of... someone.

A pause. And I'm falling. Right into the bathtub.

My eyes open under water. I sit up choking a scream. Arms flailing. Frozen water goes into my mouth and windpipe.

"Wake up," Edward says walking out of the filthy bathroom.

"Fuck shit, mother fucker!" I cough out incoherently. I wipe hair out of my mouth and face.

He stops at the door and turns abruptly. I instantly cower as his steps quicken until he reaches the tub. My hands find the edge. I stand, pulling away from him. My hazy brain finds it possible to escape the tub pressed against a wall. The bang to my head quickly follows, "Fuck!"

He's shouting. I can barely hear him. My head hurts. It rings in my ears. I go to cover them. He yanks them away and I finally look up at his face. The knee-length pajama dress sags with the weight of the water. The sleeves hang over my hands. Everything is clinging.

_Everything is clinging_.

"Shit." I gasp looking down. And I'm awake now. My attention perks as well as _other_ things from the cold. I yank my hands away angrily from his to cover myself. I hold a fist full of soaked fabric over my bottom half and an arm around me. I look up and his pointing finger is midair as he yells. Or _was_ yelling. My cheeks redden with anger. I glare. And he's not looking at my face to notice. "Nice," I spit sarcastically. Awkward silence. His eyes snap up.

"You have ten minutes," he finally says after his throat bobs. He's fuming with a hint of red under the 'V' of his white shirt. He turns and grabs the doorknob. "We're even," he declares over his shoulder. He slams the door behind him. I flinch.

"Well, thank you very much Mr. Fitz-pervert! Good morning to you too, Sir!" I yell in his wake, fists balled at my sides. "Asshole," I mumble rubbing at the side of my head.

These last couple of days have been hell. I wake up every morning with a special surprise from The Masen himself.

One morning I awoke to metal scratching as he sharpened his knives...at the foot of my bed. He was just reaching for my toe when I snatched it out of his hand. I see a hint of smirk before he scratched his cheek with a blade. Unfazed, he proceeded to order me around. That night I wondered if it was really possible to sleep with one eye open. I wore socks and tucked my feet under me.

The next day I woke screaming murder when a blur passed over my head. I was just opening my eyes. A knife bobbed, stuck to the wall. He was relentless. _Ruthless._ To be woken up at the crack of dawn was one thing, but to wake up to the smell of fear the moment I opened my eyes was another.

I never knew what he'd do next. He taunted me. My senses were heightened minutely.

Every moment the pull and push of fighting and arguing with him was becoming routine. Even escorting me to the lab to meet Alice was a mission in itself. His fingers would always find my lower back and push me around. I'd make everything as impossible as I could manage. When I pushed too far, I knew it. There was a look. A new kind of look. The 'push me again'-look. Like he was daring me to make him kill me. That one look and I'd stop.

But today I was fed up. Because _this _was fucked up. And you'd think my melting point was the flying knife. No. I knew he had excellent aim. If he wanted to hurt me, his wrist only had to flick slightly. What got me, however, was waking up to a cold room, dressing in a cold room, walking on a cold floor—let alone soaking in freezing water. My soaked clinging pjs and puckered skin. I look down at my _puckered _chest. _His blush._

And suddenly I'm laughing. I melt into the tub, hanging over the ledge in a fit. Hand over my mouth. The audacity of calling Edward Masen a pervert_...Mr. Fitz-pervert _to be exact. And watching him blush. _I guess he's human after all. _I cover a loud snort rolling out of me. I stop to look at the door, sure as fuck he'll come back to knife me.

I sigh sitting back against the tub when I can't breathe anymore. I really am becoming delusional. This is my breaking point. This cannot get any worse. And all that's left is laughing. I almost forgot the feeling. The last time I laughed, I was with Angela.

God, I miss her.

And then tears stream down my face, mixing with the water. The tears mix in with the laughter in hysterics. And suddenly I can't decide. Laugh or cry. A mess of emotions I can't keep up with. I heave with a cackle at the thought of insanity. Yup, definitely insane.

I lie here for more than ten minutes...on purpose. I don't care. Fuck him—and this betraying thin pajama. I yank the offensive garment off me. I unplug the tub and watch the freezing water drain as the hot water pours in when I turn the knob.

By the time I come out in only a towel—seeing as I never had the chance to bring anything in— he's waiting against the opposite wall. His knee is bent, the other balancing on his ankle length, loosely tied boot. He looks up from under his lashes as he picks at his nails with his stupid knife. Probably the same one he keeps throwing at me. He glares, nostrils flared. _He's pissed._ He looks intimidating and ready to pounce.

I walk past him feeling my skin prickling. He follows me with his eyes. My body instinctively cowers away from him. Even my strides quicken. I lift my head high and keep composure as I reach the room. "You saw my tits. The least you can do is back off," and I slam the door with a foot.

My knees buckle a bit. _He'll come after me._ I stand in the middle of the room with my hand over my heart for a long moment.

Nothing.

I snort_. _I slap a hand over my mouth to quiet myself. It was probably louder. I cringe.

I dress quickly in comfortable clothing from the closet Alice filled. The top is a deep crimson wrap over my chest to my shoulder. I finger the visible inner lining in black satin. The perfectly fitted black pants are cut like denim but softer and breathable. I tuck the legs in black boots I found in the back of the closet. None of them have labels. I find myself staring at them, turning them over in my hands a few times before I dress. They're finely sewn and unique. I'm curious. But I'm not speaking to Alice.

For the last few days I've seen her at the lab we kept our distance. The first time I saw her in a week, her eyes locked on mine. She acted indifferent, blank, busy...but I saw the worry. _Good. _The way she left me behind, locked in this place, still angers me. I found my way to my metal table and hid behind my closed lids as an IV dripped into my vein. She said it was vitamins. The only word that came out of her mouth. The vitamins made me dizzy and sleepy, which worked to my advantage. I didn't want to be awake. No use in fighting. I'd lie there and take it.

Edward would leave and I didn't see him again until he'd come back to retrieve me. I was left roaming around my room for the rest of the day. I'd read or look through the piles of junk. If I found something nice, I'd hang it up. I found more chandelier pieces the deeper i looked. The twinkling reflection of the sun kept me dazed for hours, thinking. My collection was getting larger around the useless small window.

I wrote every night at the small desk. All my frustrations...out. But what's the use? No one will see. No one will read and know. Then I'd sit at the small desk and think, for more hours. Every second that ticked by I was loosing my insanity.

When night came without my notice, Edward would appear. He'd scare me out of my skin with his stealthy creepy ways. The room would be dark by then. I'd forget to turn on the light, leaving the hallway light glowing. A silhouette of his broad stature would form a shadow over my desk, blocking the light on the paper in front of me. My heart would instantly race.

He stood there and watched me. I pretended to write more so I'd seem unfazed by his presence. But my skin crawled with every tense moment of his stare. He'd simply walk in. Uninvited. As always. The lamp by the bedside would brighten with a click. Without a word, he'd walk out.

I followed him through my peripheral. When he wasn't looking, I watched him disarm himself outside of my room. Both nights I wasn't able to keep my eyes away. Blade by blade would slip out of somewhere beneath his clothing. His fingers worked skilfully and diligently. When the twin Ivory guns would be next, he'd turn and catch me staring. His eyes would be glued to mine as he blindly disarm them.

I finally figured out what the cabinet in the hallway is for. His _equipment _was kept safe there. He had the key. I tried not to look but what I saw were more than blades and guns. Half were things I've never seen.

It seemed like he didn't mind I saw. He wasn't shy. He'd slip his shirt off and head for the bathroom. The door was always left ajar. Like that first night of my punishment, I'd watch the steam sneak into my room to my prickled skin. I would hide in my bed—pretending to sleep.

But he would never leave. He'd sit outside my room fiddling with his cabinet full of toys, until I fell asleep.

My hand pauses at the knob watching the specks of sun reflect on the door now. I'm done dressing but I can't move. Not until I take a deep breath...praying this day would be the day this all comes to an end.

I open the door and he's exactly where I left him. He doesn't look up. I fight a grin, biting on my lip. He almost looks... embarrassed? Like a puppy with its tail between his legs. _Suits him right. _I'm giddy with victory against his defeat. No more tricks from him again. I hope.

Without a word, we arrive at the lab. Not even his fingers push my lower back annoyingly. I can't hide the grin this time. Coming here has become a routine. Alice appraises my appearance like the previous day. I think she's taking inventory of my intact limbs and unmarked skin. But scaring me awake doesn't show up as a bruise. So she finds nothing. I'm surprised she cares.

Edward leaves with a last glance. Probably goes out on a killing spree. I'm alone again with my dizziness.

"How are you feeling?"

I look up surprised. Alice stands at my side, attaching a drip. Hurts like a bitch every time. I look away taking a breath. She offered to leave a line in but I grow faint just thinking about having a line temporarily embedded in my arm while I sleep.

"Fantastic as always." sarcastic and to the point. She sighs annoyed.

"You don't have to be rude about it," she says with frowning eyes. I chuckle humorlessly.

"Fine. How about I'm shitty. Fucking, crawling inside my own skin. Going insane. Wanting to rip walls 'till I get as far away from here as I can. But I can't, because there's a fucking psychopath who watches my every move and wants to use every knife he has strapped on him. " I look up at her blank expression, "How's that?" She doesn't respond and looks back at my arm.

She laughs suddenly, making my blood boil. "That's absurd. Edward would never hurt you."

"Right," I nod, scratching my face in frustration. "You obviously aren't stuck in a room with him."

"Seriously. He'd probably shoot _me_ if I got too close. Don't you see?" her stupid lips smile mockingly. I roll my eyes dropping a fist on my thigh. A chuckle builds from her belly, her shoulders bob.

"Fuck you, Alice!" I spit. This only makes her laugh harder. I stop to look at an Alice I've never seen. She looks young and carefree. Her teeth are glowing and her eyes brighten in amusement. Yet, I just want to rip her a new one.

"I'm not even kidding right now!" I shout, ignoring her. "You know what? I don't know why I'm talking to you. I'm so pissed at you. You completely betrayed me and left me down there to...rot!" I start to get up to go...anywhere but here.

"Oh, calm down and sit," she pushes me back on the table with force. She's serious now but a smile still plays on her lips. "I'm sorry, but I had to do that. It was all to save you from being slaughtered by Carlisle...thanks to your stupid stunt," she glares at me. "You put Edward in danger. He had to fix it. So he locked you up while he was away. Suited you right." I swallow heavily. _Shit. _

"Alice, he scares me," I whisper, trying to find her sympathy. All of the humor leaves her face as she looks at me.

"I know," she responds nodding slowly. She sighs, putting the IV line down. "He'd kill me if I said this but..." Her eyes change.

"He feels...responsible," she nods. "We are not entirely sure why Carlisle wants you. We're in the dark, too. But... all we know is Edward has to keep you safe...away from him. We're not sure what Carlisle will do. But we know him enough to stay alert and make sure you're still in one piece. If Carlisle went all his way to find you, it's for a reason. Something bigger than all of us.

"Edward spent many months following you," she continues. I heard this before. _That explains his excellent stalking abilities. _I keep my mouth shut.

She moves around the table and continues setting up. "Carlisle assigned him to do it. So, he followed you. Then he realized how dangerous this was becoming. Government soldiers followed you. You were a target. And anything that involves them, _has _to mean something.

"He won't ever admit it, but the mission became personal. All those months he became...attached, I guess. For as long as I've known him, I have never seen him so determined. In all his fucked up life he has never cared so much." I redden with every word. I feeling the heat prickling my skin. "He cares because you remind him of himself. He was where you are now." My eyes shut as I sigh taking in the words. I hiss as the needle goes in suddenly.

She snickers after a long moment. I know she's still laughing at me as she tapes a gauze on the opening. My eyes roll, too weak to respond. My head is getting lighter as I grow dizzy. "I'm surprised you're still alive every time you walk in here. You're the only one who gets under his skin and is still breathing." She finishes, crumbling the wrappers in her hand and looks up. "Trust me, he never argues, he gets even."

"Don't I know it." I fidget, hand running over my face, uncomfortable with all she's said.

Someone groans. We both look up. Alice runs. I can't help but grin. She's been waiting on him hand and foot. She's totally infatuated. She tries to hide her feelings but I can see.

For the past few days, I've been watching The Burning man. I named him and I feel for him. My brows furrow as I watch him struggling in pain. His chest is still covered in bandages. They sometimes bleed. The beeping monitors tell me his name is Corporal Whitlock and he's handsome. I sigh because I can't blame her for running. I would. Watching a wounded, vulnerable man in need of care with a name like _that_—you surrender. End of story. I've been curious about him too. But I lay back and let Alice work. I lay back and let the dizziness rise and think of Edward.

I wonder if I'm _his_ burning man. If I'm the vulnerable and wounded in need of help. _He never cared so much..._and that's all I can think of as I close my eyes.

—•—••

"This is by far the most subtle way you've prepared to kill me." I can't take it anymore. I speak up. He's been sitting on the stool at the foot of my bed cleaning the Ivory twins. I watch his long fingers twist and turn rods of metal and pieces of _things_ I don't know the names of. The rag he's using is crisp white. The bed bounces slightly when he drops a piece once it's cleaned.

His lip lifts at the corner. I watch intently, frozen. _He found it funny._ He doesn't respond. The felt tip pen in my hand has dried. The papers are crumbled slightly on my lap. I'm sitting on the bed, as far away as I can from him. I realize I've been watching him for the last half hour.

Late afternoon, he arrived at the lab from his latest killing spree. Or so I tell myself. Alice was off somewhere. Probably extending her services with a sponge bath. I woke up to Edward waiting patiently by the bed. We walked to the lower level—no annoying finger pushing—and he never left. There was lunch already sitting on the bed. Alice brought me breakfast while I was hooked still. No Emmett, thank God. Another person who makes my skin crawl. Even so.

And now Edward's being creepy. Exposing _deadly equipment _in my presence. In my room. I try to hide my acute panic attack. But I fight to keep calm. I just hear Alice laughing in my head.

"Do you...um, mind?" I stiffen when he turns the Ivory gun my way. He's looking through a hole of shiny metal.

"I don't," he responds and continues. I bite my lip to stop from cursing at him. Not the right moment to upset him. So I look back to my paper. But no words come. I've written all that Alice has told me. My theories. My questions. There's not much I can do with this information, but this keeps my hands occupied and my mind sane. I miss work.

I sneak a glance his way. His hair is messy. He looks tired. I never see him sleep. Come to think of it, I never notice when he leaves at night.

Reflection catches on the chain around his neck. I get now that it's a military tag. I remember it dangling over my face that first night i tried to escape through the ceiling. It feels like years ago. I wonder if the chain and scar are the only things he still has left from that life. I watch it glisten from the 'V' of his shirt.

The blush is long gone. And suddenly, I'm biting my lip harder at the memory, trying not to snort. He looks up. I divert my eyes quickly. "Um..." my brows knit together. I clear my throat, trying to seem serious, "So, what are you doing. I mean why...do you have to do that...clean them, I mean?" god, I sound like an idiot.

He looks up then back at his hands. He seems reluctant. "They'll jam up if i don't," he finally says. I'm not used to his voice like this. When hes not yelling. The room vibrates in baritone.

"Oh." I look back down to doodle my name on the margin. It dries. I reach to dip the tip. "You'd think I knew all about those..._things_. Considering Charlie has always been in the force since forever. But he'd probably have a coronary if I was even twenty feet from one." The pen stops from writing. _Why did I say that? _I look up from under my lashes. He stares. "Well, I mean, when I was a kid and all. He'd, like, hide them in his room somewhere with a lock. I don't...I never even knew how they looked like."_ Just shut your mouth._

I look down and do just that. I write 'fucking idiot' all over the margins. I draw arrows pointing at my name. Silence is awkward.

"This right here..." he murmurs. My head snaps up. He's point at _Ivory. _"... is the _Muzzle_. _Trigger. Slide," _he names them off.I follow his fingers as they flip the piece over his hand. "This...is the _Barrel._" I nod. I lean in, resting an elbow on my knee.

"Um, is that what guys pull on in the movies? You know, like they pull and it makes a clicking sound..." I my word vomit fades. He's staring at me blankly. "It's like, really annoying how they do that, you know? I mean, why don't they load it _before _the bad guys are in front of them...so they'll have time," and why did I think I could fix it with more talking? My fingers pinch my lips.

He pushes a laugh through his nose. I snap my eyes back up at a smirk playing over his lips. "Yes, that's what they pull on." He stops to shake his head before continuing, "When _the good guys _pull on it, It loads a bullet from the _Magasine, _here," he points, pushing a button so a piece drops in his palm, "It sits in the chamber ready to be fired off." He slams a hand under it, pushing the magasine in. He reaches and pulls. The barrel locks in.

"Oh. Right." I nod already flushed. I gulp. He continues cleaning. "So, when you don't clean it, it can jam?" I don't know what to say, but I don't want him to stop talking. He looks up and nods once. "Ok."

It doesn't escape me how disturbing this conversation is. Never in my life...

"So, do you have to pull on it every time? Like, every time you...shoot?"

"Once is enough. Or until the round is used up."

"Oh." I lean further, my elbows on the bed in front of me. I can't get my eyes off his hands. The veins running up to his arms. Some scars show here and there. On his knuckles, wrist. I wonder how he got them. "How do you know when they're all used up?"

He stops to look up. "Because it'll stop shooting." His smirk is back. I flush. Duh.

"Of course," I clear my throat.

"It's an epic mistake for the shooter. It shows they don't know what they're doing. And most definitely do not have the right to use one. You have to count," he says. I don't know what he means.

"Count what?"

"The rounds. You have to count every shot. Fourteen. One extra inside the chamber. You don't want to run out of any at the wrong moment." He finds my eyes and they're dark. I hold my breath as they seem to be looking right through me. "In a second, your life can change," he says. I can't speak. I can only imagine being in a situation like that. To see your own life in front of your eyes, and loose it.

"Oh," word of the day.

I watch him for a moment, debating whether I should ask him what's on my mind. My Journalist instincts kick in. It itches. "And when was your first time? The first time you...had to used it?" I watch him intently. He freezes.

"I'm sorry. That wasn't...that was wrong of me." I lean back. He drops a gun on the bed and picks up the next.

I hear a long intake of breath. "People called him Supreme. He had a scar that ran from his throat to his chest. He was the city's biggest pusher." I see him swallow heavily, "He got rid of deals that went wrong. Kids mostly. My friend at the time was one of his..._associates. _But he fucked up. A client didn't follow through so...Supreme went after us—flanked by his four men.

"They made me choose. They put a gun in my hands and ordered me to shoot my friend." His jaw squares off, "So, I closed my eyes and I pulled the trigger. Four times. The last pull I made sure to keep them open. I aimed right where his scar began. Ironically, my first time wasn't in the military."

"Didn't others come after you after that?" I know the drill. When I worked I heard of so many stories like this. The battles never ended.

"No. The others scattered. A lot of debt was cleared to zero that night. I didn't last long around the street after that."

"Oh."

I lean back and let silence take over for a bit. My pen hovers over the paper. And nothing. I think of a young Masen living off streets, probably used and still lived to tell about it. Not many do. There was only one way out: six feet under or in jail, where they ended up dead anyway. And then I wonder...

"How many did you have to kill to save your life?" No filter. I almost slap a hand over my mouth.

He looks up at me from under his lashes. His jaw flexes. He stands and picks up his mess. I stiffen instantly. The portal has closed._ Shit. "_I'm sorry."

"Carlisle wants to see you tomorrow," he declares. "You should sleep." I tense at his words. I look at his retreating back confused. He goes to the cabinet and I hear him moving things around. My nerves spike. I slowly put away the paper and pen, sliding under the covers. I reach for the lamp and switch it off. But I can't switch off my mind. I can't breathe, let alone sleep.

I stare at the glow from the hallway light. His shadow dances around the ceiling. Another night where he doesn't sleep and I sleep with the world on my shoulders. Worry. Fear. Tension. Our whole conversation runs through my mind a million times. I mentally slap myself for failing. My stupid mouth. But I'm exhausted. I drift to sleep despite the rushing thoughts in my head. I listen to Edward's boots moving around the floor.

—•—••

A nightmare. My white dress is full of blood again. I hold on to Renee's hand. The needle comes closer and she doesn't make it stop. The man standing over me doesn't stop laughing. I'm sweating. I start awake, panting. The sheets gather at my waist and I reach to my sides to steady myself. Everything is dark. The moon shines through the window in speckles of light off my collection. But my hand finds warm skin.

I pull away with a gasp. I stifle a scream.

Edward.

He lies fully clothed beside me. His eyes are closed. His lashes twitch against his cheeks. He's asleep. I almost don't recognize him. He looks peaceful.

My hands drop and so does my jaw. I look around trying to take it all in. One of his legs is nestled beside mine, his boots still on. And I stare at that. How odd it is. His other leg is bent and off the edge of the bed. The bed isn't big enough for his frame. His large arm is bent behind his head. And I stare at that.

All the air leaves my lungs. _So this is where he sleeps... _It's weird. This is weird. Definitely creepy. My whole body stiffens and I can't move. Wind breezes through the small crack from the window. His hair moves. And I stare at that.

He looks young. His brows aren't knit in anger like I'm used to seeing them. His face is relaxed. His shoulders rigid. He sleeps, yet they're stiff. And I stare. _What is this? _ I don't understand him.

_He cares. _

His chest rises and falls. He breathes in deeply. I hold mine. He stirs and I look up at his face. His eyes stay closed. His bent leg settles over his other. He turns his body towards mine. His arm moves. And I flinch away. My hands begin to shake. I catch myself with the edge of the bed when I pull back too far. But it's no use. His arm wraps over my torso. He pulls roughly. The tendons of his arm flex.

And I stare at _that._

"Shit." I whisper, my hands over my lips. My voice cracks. I lay back down slowly as he pulls me. I pray he doesn't wake. My head hits the pillow and I'm pinned. I feel his warm breathing on my forehead.

This is weird. This is creepy. This isn't right.

I sneak my hand under the pillow to steady my stiff neck after a long while. Slowly. Inch by inch. My fingers meet something hard. _Ivory._ I look down at it when I pull it out. It's massive in the dark. My breath hitches. Edward's fingers twitch on my back. I shove it back under. My eyes widen. I wait. He doesn't move.

Loud bagging echoes down the hallway, towards the room. I jump holding my lips shut. This isn't the first time I've heard them. Some nights when I was alone, I'd hear night creeks and banging. They would leave me awake for hours...terrified out of my wits. I'd lie awake wondering if it was someone creeping in to kill me. I laid for hours wishing I wasn't alone.

_He cares._

I take a deep breath and try to calm myself before I start to hyperventilate. His warm breaths continue to trickle down my face. I try to focus on his breathing. It calms me minutely. Every creek and bang isn't as threatening anymore. They fade. Edward's arm tightens around me, over my back. His finger tips curl around my nape where my collar droops, and the sounds grow farther and farther away.

I stare at his bobbing throat. The dark inked vines that look alive. Hours pass. I hate my eyes. My breathing matches his and I hate my eyes for closing. I drift because for the first time in so long, I feel safe.

—•—••

"Bella, wake up."

I open my eyes and see Alice standing over my bed. I jump up. "What…Where?" She stands back and pulls me by my arm.

"Come on. Let's get you ready," she says. I look back at the bed and he's gone. The sheets are rustled where he laid.

"Where's Edward?" I ask as she opens the bathroom door.

"He had to leave. He left instructions. You have a meeting." She doesn't look at me. "He'll be back in a few days."

"Oh. Ok." My heart sinks in confusion. I turn to take a shower. I can't help but wonder if it was a dream. He was there, then he's gone. I shower quickly and return back to the room to get dressed. I slip on the boots after I slip on the clothes Alice picked out for me. A black casual wool jacket over a matching grey high neck. The pants the same. Her sudden presence scares me. This isn't ordinary. No routine. But the boots are. They're comfortable and they've grown on me.

I step out of the room and she's standing there. Without a word she walks ahead of me. The hallways seem brighter and my eyes squint. I don't know why she's silent. It irks me. I follow and leave her to her seemingly occupied mind. Probably lost in a Corporal.

My stomach grows heavy as we approach a set of doors. They're metal just like Carlisle's office, yet different. And then it hits me. The Doctor. I'm going to see him again. My heart rate picks up. Our last encounter was almost fatal. I remember the feeling of shock. Suffocation. My sweater grows tight at the neck. I pull at it. _Show no fear. _My spine straightens.

Alice opens one and holds it open. "Alice," I call on her to look at me. Her face remains blank. I don't know what to make out from her. She acts a certain manner one day, and the next she's dry and distant. I can't seem to fully trust her.

"It's alright. You can wait in here," she says. A small smile plays on her lips. I watch her for a moment. My nerves sets in again. This doesn't feel right. I sneak a peak inside, just over the threshold and look back at her. "What is it? Where is he?" I'm growing paranoid.

"Everything is fine. Go on ahead. Please." I watch her for another moment and she's calm. My boot passes the door and I'm in. _Show no fear. _I chant in my head.

A conference room. A long table decorates the space and chairs with high backs lines it neatly. The floor is carpeted in crimson red. Familiar. I look up when the door shuts behind me. Alice leaves. I'm left alone.

Now I panic. I stand back against a long wall. They're metal and sleek. Bright bulbs shining under the table illuminates the room. I hear a ticking clock at the far end of the room. But nothing. I only listen to my heavy breathing.

I look back at the door and run to it. My hand reaches for the knob. But it's locked.

"Hello, Isabella."

I start. My heart in my throat. I turn. Everything fades. The room is no longer here, or the floor beneath me. The voice is familiar. It surges through every vein in my body, straight to my heart. I grasp it. And I see. My knees give way and I can't stand anymore.

With wide eyes I see what I haven't in so long. I forget. I forget how beautiful and loving. How familiar and _home_. But it all rushes back. Instantly. Like a thousand waves to a shore. Tears find their way to my lids and everything's a blur. Because it's her, my mother, on a monitor taking up the entire wall. I can see and she's looking back at me.

—•—•  
—•—•—•

* * *

**A/N: *stares* O.O**


	14. Chapter 13: Key

**A/N: Beta Beige was amazing with quick revisions. I love her to pieces. Thank you!**

**This is for you...the readers who really need it... and I'm hugely honored. Let me know if it helped with the fix. I'd greatly appreciate it. I see you adding to favs...THANK YOU! Please let me know if you hear of this elsewhere from recs. I'll never know unless you mention it! And I'd love to know to go thank them! **

**Answers to many many questions below. Go read. **

**I don't own Twilight. I just own a Mini and my FF reading device—iPhone.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — _Oh, it's on..._  
**

**—•—•—•**

**_Sound: _****_How to destroy angels - The Believers (Thank you Vantastic!)  
_**

**—•—•**

_"Hello, Isabella."_

_I start. My heart in my throat. I turn. Everything fades. The room is no longer here, or the floor beneath me. The voice is familiar. It surges through every vein in my body, straight to my heart. I grasp it. And I see. My knees give way and I can't stand anymore._

_With wide eyes I see what I haven't in so long. I forget. I forget how beautiful and loving. How familiar and home. But it all rushes back. Instantly. Like a thousand waves to a shore. Tears find their way to my lids and everything's a blur. Because it's her, my mother, on a monitor taking up the entire wall. I can see and she's looking back at me._

••••••••••••••••••••

**Chapter 13 - Key**

The red tendrils of the crimson carpet sink under my fingertips. I feel as though it swallows me up but i fight it. I get up off the floor. Shaky legs. My eyes are only on her. _It's_ _her. _She called to me and pauses. Her smile falters and turns into a frown. Her eyes peel away from mine. I blink. The blur watering in my eyes clears as they fall.

The image is crystal as life. My legs move and a hand lifts to feel her. It looks so real. She sits at a table. Her forearms lean on the hard dark surface in front of her. Her powder blue shirt hugs her torso and delicate shoulders. Her dark hair sits in waves over them. My fingers instantly remembers the feel of it, the soft shiny strands. She looks so young. Not a year over what I looked like after college. Lab tables and cabinets, scattered papers and equipment surrounds her. The florescent lighting glows a blue hue around her...but doesn't show on her glowing skin and pink lips. She's beautiful. More so than I've ever remembered.

She swivels in her chair slightly from left to right making her seem younger. A familiar leather jacket hangs behind it. My pointing finger traces it. It's now my jacket. She looks casual. Comfortable. Carefree. And hesitant. Her hands fidget somewhat like I do at times. She still doesn't speak.

The static electricity flowing over my fingertips feels wrong. I run them over the illuminated monitor. She doesn't feel me. I can't feel her. My shin quivers.

"How are you sweetheart?" she smiles looking up. And just her voice alone pours new tears down my face. She sighs. "I don't know how old you are as you watch this. Right now, you just turned five," her smile widens. Her eyes brim with tears of her own. "In an case, It is in my plans to have you see this when you're old enough...so you'd understand.

"But I...have to begin by saying how very sorry i am." Her brows furrow, "If you're watching this, it means I'm long gone." She looks down in time to catch a tear. Her throat bobs and she takes a breath. She struggles to continue. "So sorry it had to be like this, but...like your grandmother told me once, 'Pain is temporary. Glory is forever'. I know your future will be greater. _You_ will be greater. I just hope this finds you safe and well," she nods slightly.

"I know i have no right to ask you a favor right now, but I want you to be brave for me—for what you're about to hear."

My heart quickens as she pauses again. The churning in my stomach is warning me to brace myself. And I know. Something deep tells me that no matter what age, or how brave I am, I'll never be prepared for this.

"I should explain all of...this," her hands spread in indication. "I know this is confusing. I apologize for stirring up past pain and memories of me...and suddenly receiving this unexpectedly. But I just..._need _you_. _Danger has come and we won't be here long. You're our only hope.

"I'm asking of you something monumental. It's going to be big. It's going to take _everything _you've got." Her face changes. She grows serious and focused. Her hesitancy fades. Chills run through my spine as hers straightens.

"Isabella, In you lies the key to the future existence of mankind. You can change the _world_."

My breath hitches. Her exasperation lingers on her last word. Shock is like a bucket of cold water poured over me. I'm frozen.

"I don't have long to explain," she rushes to speak. "But forget everything you perceived of me. I'm not what you think I am or what Charlie told you. I had bigger plans for my life. After grad school I moved to Boston where I was accepted to MIT. I've met brilliant people. Geniuses who became colleagues. Charlie hated that I was so far away," she chuckles humorlessly, "But it was for the best. It was meant to be because never in my dreams did I think I'd discover something grand—that _we'd _discover something grand. Something that can change big decisions for our world—for life, death and even wars."

She reaches pass the camera. I follow with my eyes. She hits a button and a graphic spins to the left of the screen by her head. The translucent object has lines that spider around it, labeling parts with names. "I hope you listened well in science class, young lady," she says with a grin and a pointed finger. I can't help but laugh through my tears. "If you did, you'll easily know that this... is a human DNA strand. A living, healthy human DNA. When it is exposed to radiation, it shatters. The human dies. The strand falls apart like a frayed yarn. It looks like _this_..." She hits another button and the strands splits. The edges look jagged. Some disappear. I blink.

"Once a strand no longer functions, there is no way it can be revive. A miracle from God, maybe, but no one can undo it." She paused to look up, as though she's found my eyes. "No one...until _now_."

I stare dumbly not understanding. She moves around to reach more buttons. The graphic beside her changes. Her ability to know so much is startling. _She must've been genius. _

"Esme, my colleague and I, discovered a microbe..." She laughs softly, "...in canned meat. Let's just say, it was a long night of studying and we were hungry and broke. We survived on spam, chips and wonder bread." She snorts. I laugh, marveling at her silliness. _She would've been amazing to know. _My smile fades to a frown instantly.

"Point is," she continues, "this bacteria—_Deinococcus radiodurans _aka _'Berry'_, as we named it_—_was able to withstand radiation inside of a can when exposed beyond what a human can take. One idea led to another and we tested it against a strand. And guess what happened?" she smirks folding her hands together. She leans in as though she were telling me a secret. I lean in subconsciously. "The exposed DNA began repairing itself within hours. Isabella, do you have any idea what this means?"

"Oh god..." I whisper. My skin pickles with wonder—at the enormity. I gasp air I didn't know I was holding back.

"Exactly!" it's like she heard me. "Now, listen carefully, alright?" she nods slightly. I nip my lip to stop it from trembling. I find myself nodding too. "This is where I need your help," she continues.

"I need you to protect the _Berry _for me. I won't be there to do it myself. There are people who want it. They'll do anything to get it. It can be catastrophic if placed in the wrong hands. They want it to gain control. Military and government control over people. A nuclear war can break out. They can kill whole countries with one strike, yet save themselves. Global genocide...the possibilities are endless," Her eyes are wide. Terror.

_Holy shit... _My fingers curl over the monitor. My mind flashes with worst case scenarios. Of death in masses. Of a terrorized world and the end of it all. _This can't be real. _I look up at her, but there's not a hint of humor in it. She just continues to speak. I listen intently.

"_If_ it is placed in the right hands, then... it can be used for our greatest advantage. So many cures for diseases, viruses, and death would be defeated in desperate times when the need arrives. _This _is what we strive to make of it. It has to be used wisely...

"Promise me, Bella. Promise me you'll protect it with your _life_."

Silence and tension fills the room like a third person. Her intense, worried eyes are seeing right through mine. I stammer. "I...promise, mom, I promise," I whisper exasperated. "But...how?" I look around and behind me. An eerie feeling. The room remains unchanged, yet _everything _has changed, in a matter of seconds.

I look back at her and she's silent still. Her eyes are focused on something beyond the camera. I can't see what she sees. I grow anxious. "How? Mom...tell me!" and I'm yelling at a wall. Anger and dread sets in like a frigid blanket. _If only she were here... _"What do I do?" I whisper to no one. She won't hear me. She doesn't continue and she's staring at something else.

I watch as a shadow of a person rushes by her. My mother nods. She stiffens and looks back at me. "I have to go," she says in a rush. My stomach plummets.

"No!" I don't what her to go. I watch the figure behind her moving around tables, piling up papers to toss them. A woman. Her bright hair contrast to the white lab coat that covers her length. Her eyes are stark and light, heavy with fear. Her skin pale but the dark room obstructs everything else.

"Just remember, you have the key, Isabella," Renee leans in to whisper, "You carry it everyday. It opens the lock to the _Berry _where I first met Charlie. He knows. Trust him. You'll know what to do."

Just then, a man rushes in to the room. My eyes widen in recognition. It's Carlisle. He looks young and less abrasive. His shirt and tie crisp and blue under his white coat. He turns to look into the camera and then her. "Hurry, Renee!" he says sternly. He turns his back and rushes to follow behind the unidentified woman. Renee nods and stands. She grabs her jacket in one hand and reaches above the camera with the other. Her hair cascades from her shoulder. Her face large now and inches from the lens.

"I love you forever, my sweet Isabella. Make me proud. Save us." The screen goes black. She's gone.

I stare at the empty space. Speechless. I slump to the floor. My knees can't anymore. My hands dig into my hair as i stare off at darkness. Like nothing. Like everything that happened has been swallowed up.

I start. The screen interrupts with blinking blue letters at the bottom. A question, "Make copy now?" I stand and scramble to find a button. Anything. My fingertips trace around but nothing. I bang it with my fists.

The door opens behind me. It isn't Alice. The woman is tall and blonde. Her clothing is hidden under a white coat. Her stilettos match her red lips. They are set in distaste, her eyes narrowed. "Come," she orders. I don't move.

"Where's Alice?"

"I don't have time to find your babysitter. Now, move."

"No." I turn, indicating to the wall. "I want a copy. How...how do I get this?" She just stares at me. My nostrils flare. My patience nil. "I don't give a fuck who you are, my caretaker, the grim reaper, fucking _Satan_...I'm not leaving until I get _this_."

We stand there staring each other down. After a tension filled moment the corner of her mouth lifts. "Feisty, I like it. And they said you were _weak_." She turns and walks out. I blink. My arms drop to my sides.

"Are you coming, or not?" she calls from outside the door. My legs move rapidly. I launch to the doors. Her back is to me as she walks down the hall. She doesn't look back. I follow. She disappears at a corner and I run to keep up.

She stops at a door and swings it open. I catch it from closing on me. My eyes bug out at the sight in front of me. A room full of wall to wall monitors. They're all displaying different images. Surveillance. Some of streets, some of rooms and hallways. I walk in slowly. The door closes behind me. The blondie sits at a swiveling chair with a tall back. Her legs cross under a glass table. She begins typing away over illuminated flat keys. They brighten with every tap.

The six screens in front of her are transparent. Blues and green graphic dances in front of her eyes. Her face glows, making her look serene and far more pleasant than her inexplicable foul attitude. I watch windows open and move around with a click.

My eyes wander as I stand in the middle of the room. I have no choice but wait. I watch people move around in some screens. I wonder if they know they're being watched. Some are empty spaces. I inhale sharply when I spot a familiar place. The lower level basement. The pool room is dark. Nothing moves. But i see the light of my room pouring into the space in the background. _She sees everything. _

My thoughts are interrupted by a soft laugh. "You two are extremely entertaining." I turn to look at her watching me. "Definitely my nightly guilty pleasure. A cocktail and popcorn is all I need." My eyes narrow. She turns back to her monitors with a smirk on her face. I'd like to remove it. "Don't worry, I turn it off at bedtime story and tucking in. As...if," she says in disgust. My hand twitches.

She hits a button and suddenly my mother is on the biggest screen in front of us. My eyes widen automatically. "That one."

"Positive?" sarcasm. My eyes roll.

Someone barges through the door behind us. We turn. Emmett. I stiffen. He stops at the door and looks at both of us. "Well, what do we have here?" His pinkie ring reflects the light off a monitor when he adjusts himself with a palm. I look away, taking a step back. I try to focus on Mom on the screen. "Why is she here, Rosalie?" he asks.

"I should ask the same about you," she replies. Her face is illuminated by the light coming from the door. Her pupils dilate. She turns in her chair and continues to stare at the monitors unfazed. The slight intake of breath she takes doesn't escape me. I watch as she clenches a fist on the desk.

I flinch. Within a second he's grabbing me by my collar. He pulls me towards the door. I grab his forearm and dig my nails. His tendons flex under my palms. I grunt. My feet drag. "Will it kill you to follow fucking orders for once, Rosalie?" he hisses through clenched teeth.

I plant my feet and crouch. He looses his balance stumbles back. He's forced to let go. I scramble from his reach to the nearest wall of monitors. My chest heaves. My eyes widen when he reaches behind him. The tall blonde runs to his side and blocks him from getting closer.

"You're in _my _office. If you came for trouble, leave!" she orders shoving him. Relief flows through me. I peak a look at his face. His anger visible. He's not as intimidating as Edward, but he's definitely runner up.

He huffs as he steps away. He digs into his front pocket instead and bites on a toothpick. Scars under his bottom lip. He folds his arms over his black sweater. I never noticed before that a scar runs under his left eye lid to his cheek. "Masen needs birds eye on his location," he says randomly. My attention perks. He keeps his eye glued to mine and smirks.

She walks back to her desk after a moment. "Did he jump off a building and broke the transmitter again? Fucking maniac."

"He was surrounded. Had a bit of a scuffle. He called from a payphone." I try to hide my staggered breathing. My stomach churns. Deep down a hint of distaste for myself flourishes. Don't know what it is. I think it's worry.

"Didn't even know they still had those around anymore. Where is he?" she asks with a bored tone.

"42.021 -88.077." He looks straight at me then. Rosalie types in the coordinates. He flicks his tongue suggestively over the toothpick. I look away. He chuckles. "I'll be away tonight. Don't bother calling me," he says to her.

"Slut-scapades two nights in a row? Exhilarating," she responds. I press my lips together.

"It definitely has been since you stopped coming around."

I look to see her expression. Nothing changes but her flared nostrils. Her throat bobs.

Fantastic. Another love conflict. The one where the girl is hopelessly in love and he couldn't care less. My eyes roll on their own accord. Alice, and now _her. What is wrong with people here? I just want my copy._

I blink at the monitor and flush. Edward appears on one of them. It's morning and he already looks tired. His hair bright against the foggy sky in disarray. His skin pale. He turns his head to look behind him. A stream of blood runs down his nape. I bite down hard on my lip.

"I haven't had my breakfast and you already look like shit," Rosalie says.

"I need a map of the building. All floors, exits and roof. I'll need you to disable surveillance," he requests, ignoring her.

"On it. Map on its way," she says typing away. My eyes greedily take in everything happening in front of me. I feel like a lucky fly on the wall. I watch Edward run his fingers through his hair as he waits. The side of his palm bloody. The same hand that tugged on my collar while he slept. The hairs on my arms prickle. I turn to look at Emmett. He's staring at me. Smirk set in place. I look down to cower away from his mocking eyes. I flush, realizing I'm not standing where I was. I'm hovering behind Rosalie's chair. He chuckles.

We all look back at Edward when he speaks. Not at us. A passerby stands behind him. The image is too blurry to make out the person's face. "Out of order," Edward says turning back. The person hesitates for a second but steps away when Edward moves forward. "Fuck off," he says sternly with a hooked thumb. The stranger scurries off. My brows knit in confusion. _Where is he? _His camera angle is odd, as though he were standing at a...

"Is that an ATM?" I ask without thinking. I press my lips together when they look over at me. Edward's expression changes. He looks up at the camera. He can't see us, but he can hear.

"What the fuck is she doing there?" He asks alarmed. Just the mere sound of my voice he goes lethal. _Shit..._

"Who?" Rosalie asks innocently. "Surveillance disabled. Off you go."

"Where the fuck is Alice?" he yells. The last thing I see is his bloody fist connect with the lens. I wince. Rosalie disconnects the feed. He's gone.

"Did he say if he got the key?" She asks Emmett, turning in her chair.

_Key. _My heart speeds up.

"He didn't. One of the black coats found him. It's why he has to break in." He flicks at the toothpick.

"What...um...what key?" I mumble. My curiosity wins. They look at me as if they remembered I was standing there. "Is it about that?" I point to my Renee still on up on the large monitor. They don't reply.

"What do you mean?" Rosalie asks. They look confused. Emmett stands straighter. His muscles coil in his arms.

"What the fuck do you know about a key?" he asks defensively.

_They don't know. _I look back at the monitor in thought. Then back at their blank expressions. "Did you watch this? Do you know about it?" I ask again. Emmett brows knit with anger. I reach forward and press 'enter' on Rosalie's keyboard. The video plays. "_This..." _I insist, pointing.

They turn to watch. But it's not the video I just watched. Renee is talking but it isn't what she was telling me in the conference. I reach to stop it. I press enter again. Different. "This isn't it." I whisper.

"What isn't?" Rosalie looks angry also. She pushes my hand away when I reach the keyboard again. Emmett crosses his arms over his chest. Silence steps in and I'm dumbfounded. But my mind is louder than sirens. It screams at me to keep quiet.

"Um," I stammer, "I'm...sorry. I must've been mistaken." I take a step back to the wall again. "Never...nevermind." I shake my head, pulling at my hair slowly.

"She shouldn't be here," Emmett speaks up. "Send her back, Rose. Now." He walks to the door.

Rosalie turns to her desk and pushes a button. A card slides out from the desk from a slot. I kneel by her chair and look up at her face. "Rosalie? I need to talk to Carlisle. Take me to him, please."

"Here's your copy," she says handing me over the card. I look down at it when I take it. It's transparent. I turn it in my hands. "Only your finger print can active it. Touch the center to play it." I look up at her again.

"Where's Carlisle? It's important. Please, it's an emergency."

"Carlisle will meet with you soon. He's indisposed at the moment. Get up. We have to go." Her cold demeanor is back.

Her strength surprises me. He pulls me to my feet and leads us out of the room. I squint at the hallway lights. We travel quietly. I look up at her face. It's stone cold, her attention elsewhere. Thoughts invade my mind with what was left behind. I look up when the Doctor's office is near. The door ajar. As Rosalie pushes me by I strain to get a glimpse.

"Carlisle!" I call out. Rosalie's eyes widen. The grip of her hand on my arm tightens. "Carlisle, I need to talk to you!"

"Shut the fuck up, you little bitch," she hisses with a shake to my arm. I plant my feet and fight her. The anger boils in me and runs up my neck when I see him. He's at a sofa by his desk. His chest bare. The room is smoky and dark. He's not alone. The red head is with him. She's sitting on a table in front of him. The heel of her pumps digs into the wood. He snorts a line off her thigh. He looks above her bent leg. His hazy eyes find mine. He smirks.

"You bastard...argh!" I grunt as I drop to my knees. Rosalie grabs my legs. I kick her away and roll onto my back. She reaches for her coat pocket and pulls out a needle. I gasp. My leg shoots up. I kick it. The glass shatters on a wall far away. Her face goes red with fury. She pounces, but another kick to her stomach sends her flying. Her body slides on the shiny floor and stops at a wall. I scramble to my feet and run towards his door.

But she's too quick. I hear her behind me and I look. Her body twists. She flips skillfully and lands on her feet, her heels forgotten on the floor. I turn to run faster but she leaps. Her body lands on my back. My face hits the floor. Hard. A spark of light shoots behind my eyelids.

Everything goes black.

•—•—•

I wake up with a gasp. I sit up and I'm in my bed. I hiss. The right side of my face is pounding when i reach to touch it. I sit for a moment as i try to remember what happened. Minutely my teeth grind. My anger exhilarates. My heart beats faster.

_Rosalie. Carlisle._

I stand. Something clatters to the floor under me. The card. It's clear and lying by my boot. Mom's video. I lift the plastic to my palm. _Touch the center and it'll play._ And I do. And it does.

The clear facing brightens and comes to life. A digital print of my finger fades as it begins to play. _Renee._ I sit back on the messy bed and watch. Tears instantly blur my vision. She begins to speak. The same words she said to me in the conference room. I wipe away a tear and lie back on my pillow. Defeat. I'm helpless. There's nothing I can do but wait. I watch her beautiful face talking back to me.

It ends and I hit replay when it asks. It plays and plays over and over again. "_Make me proud. Save us," _she says. But how? I'm imprisoned and I need help. This burden is too much to bear. Too surreal.

I sniff back as realization hits me. Rosalie and Emmett were confused. The video was different in her office. _But why?_ I saw her save the same video on this card. Why would it be different? Is Renee trying to tell me something? Is Carlisle trying to _hide_ something? Hide the truth from everyone but me? He knows what she told me. He saw her record it. Why would he hide it from his own team?

Exhausted, I let mom repeat her words and I bury my face in my pillow. It smells of _him._ I breath in and calm fills my lungs. I felt safe last night. But he's not here. I hug it tightly and watch my mother speak. Her mouth moving. Her hands fidgeting. The softness of her hair.

My brows furrow. I slide my finger over the plastic. It rewinds. The key. _"...It's where I first met Charlie. He knows. Trust him._"

Trust him. Trust Charlie.

My pulse speeds. I shift to sit up and rewind it again. I listen. Again and again. Something sharp digs under my chest. The video continues to play. I sit up on my knees, annoyed. I lift the pillow.

Ivory.

I freeze. My eyes grow wide. Edward left it behind. As if it's a ticking bomb, I repel. I palm my chest where it dug. I cringe. My hands shake. _What if it went off? _

_Why would he leave it behind? _It's not like him. Edward never forgets. Edward never makes mistakes.

The video plays on. The key. _You carry it with you everyday...Trust him. _My hand moves to my neck. My pulse there is erratic.

Edward _never_ makes mistakes.

I grab Ivory by the handle. I stand. I _will_, most definitely _trust him._

My nostrils flare. My teeth grind. My fists tighten around the grip.I turn it in my hand and unlock it. I turn it again and cock it. It's ready. I remember...and my mind is made up.

I reach for the card and shove it in my pocket. The sound of my heavy boots is tame compared to what Ivory can do. I aim.

_One, two, three_ times I pull of the trigger.

Its force pulls me back a step. I brace myself, surprised. I heave an exhilarated gasp. "Holy shit..." It feels amazing.

The cabinet outside of my room pops open. The one I kicked and punched with angry fists but it never gave in. Two holes on the door. One on the lock. I bite my lip with a smirk. "Now who's queen, mother fucker?" I murmur. I snatch the shattered lock and throw it on the floor. A strength surges through me from satisfaction. And I've definitely made up my mind.

I scan the cabinet. I run a hand throw my hair, overwhelmed. _Edward is a psycho. I'm sure of it now._ Grenades, pistols, shotguns, uzies decorate the space. Ninja blades that look like stars. Every kind of blade in every size. A few stacked swords—one looks similar to the one in that movie with the woman in yellow—I can't remember. Other weapons I can't name that an army would probably need for a war. "Damn," breathe. I reach out to touch some. I pull back. _And I thought Ivory looks terrifying. _

But I need ammo. I need a magasine..._or whatever it's called_. _14 bullets one in the chamber._ I nod. I need at least double for what I want to do to Carlisle. "Kill Bill," I whisper. That's the name of the movie._ I liked her. _

I eye two holes that mold twin guns sitting at the very bottom. I fit ivory in it to test and I know it's where he keeps them. The other Ivory is missing. The magasines line up in between.

I take two. I shove them in my front pant pocket. _No, no... back pocket_. I switch them to the back. Quicker access. I look up at all the rest. _It would be a shame not to take more. _

_Just in case... _I assure myself. I gingerly grab the ninja stars because they'll fit in my pockets..._and because they look kinda cool._ A palm size blade sits in it's strap. The leg brace is connected. I pull it off and inspect it. Doable. I lift my pant leg and strap it around my calf inside my boot. Done.

I look up and my eyes catches red. My fingers skim a red ribbon cord. The pendant is a piece of an elephant tusk Ivory. The letter 'E' is carved in it. _Edward's_. I tug on my bottom lip.

If I do this...If I get out, I'll probably never see him again. I have to run as far away as I can. I smooth a finger over the pendant and memories flood my mind of the night he found me. He saved me so many times. Even now. I'll forever be in his debt. I swallow hard and pull at the ribbon slowly. It falls off its hook. Should I? _Something to remember him by, I guess...He can find me if he wants it back. _"Thank you," I whisper. I bring it over my head and tuck it in my sweater. I take a deep breath.

The doors.

I turn to them and stand back. Never in my life have I wanted to destroy doors so badly. I grin and bring up the gun eye level. _You have to count the rounds. _I brace myself. My muscles coil with the inevitable.

_Four, Five, Six, Seven... _A sigh of relief. The metal latch shatters in two pieces. The door creaks open. They'll hear me. I have to hurry. I pull the door open and run.

Countless times I've walked through these halls. I know them like the back of my hand. I run corners as fast as my legs can take me. _Right, left, right._

I skid to a stop. _They did hear me... and saw me. _The cameras._ "Shit..." _my stomach churns. _Make me proud. _Renee's voice is cacophony in my head. My adrenaline kicks in. My anger rises through my veins as heavy footsteps round the corner. I'm so close to Carlisle's office. _Just one good shot, Bella,_ I tell myself. I lean against a wall and close my eyes for a few seconds.

I drop to one knee and face the wall. Maybe if I shoot from low the runner won't expect it. I hear the footsteps close, they begin to run. I stiffen and lean.

_Eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve_. I gasp. I pull back and hide. _Fuck...I don't even know if I hit anything._ I stand. My back against the wall. I shift Ivory to my other hand. It hurts. I shake it off and grip the handle again. _Pain is temporary...accept it. Accept the pain._ I hear my pulse in my ears.

Excruciating silence.

I chance a peak. Slowly the wall reveals more and more of the hallway as I move. A boot. Somebody's on the floor. _I did hit something._ I point the gun at it and step out. Emmett. He's lying on the floor. His gun beside him. I run. I have to kick it away. But my eyes grow wide.

He moves. He sits up. His other hand holds a gun. I gasp. My legs weaken. I fall back. I shoot. I forget to count. I pull and I pull. "Urgh!" he grunts. Ivory clicks. She tells me to stop. But I sit up and I pull and pull. I open my eyes. He's out cold. I shuffle to my feet. My eyes wide. _Did I kill him?_ He's not moving. I look around. No one. I run to his side. I kick his leg. He's out. I kick both guns out of his reach. I don't see his blood.

My head snaps up when I hear commotion. Carlisle's office. My back slams on the wall by his door. "Carlisle!" I yell. More movement. I look down at Ivory and it's pulled oddly. _Magasine. _I pull one from my back pocket and turn it around my fingers. My hands are shaking. I push the button Edward showed me, the empty piece falls on the floor. I look around. Nothing. Glass shatters in Carlisle's office.

After a few awkward tries, it slides in. The pieces snap back together. I look up at a sound. Shadows dance around his walls. I step into view.

"Don't move." I spot him. He's sitting at his desk. A liquor glass is shattered on the carpet. The red head comes in from another room. Another woman follows. I look in—a bed behind them. The sheets are rustled. The red head stands by the door with his button down shirt and nothing else. The other has black hair down to her shoulders. She's wearing nothing but bed sheets around her waist. "Move." I order. The red head slides against the wall and sinks onto the sofa. The other follows. They look at each other and laughter bubbles up from their midsection. I turn to Carlisle and he's still. He watches me from under his lashes. His fingers from one hand presses into his temple as he leans over his desk. Liquor pools at his lips as he still holds liquid in his mouth. He stands slowly. His back arches and he spits it out. A shower of liquor sprays all over the girls and his bare chest. They squeal and laugh harder.

"You know," he says turning towards me. He licks his lips. "You are such a cockblocker, my darling Isabella. The party fucker-upper."

He staggers. He looses his balance and lands on his coffee table in front of the sofa. Pipes and liquor bottles tumble to the floor. Powder puffs midair from a small bowl. It sets off another fit of laughter. He struggles to sit up. His sleep bottoms are silk black and barely staying up.

"Let me out of here. _Now_," I demand. I take a step closer. He lands on his knees and crawls. He ignores me.

"Emmett!" he yells. "Get this...bitch out of here!" He looks out the door and freezes. His eyes grow a bit wider. _Now he wakes up. _His attention perks. He sees Emmett on the floor. "Fuck..." he whispers. He sits on the floor. His hair falls over his forehead. He looks up at me. He pushes off the floor and stands. I tense.

"They don't know do they?" I ask him. "About the key. You won't tell them because it's true isn't it? It kills you that my mother and Esme figured it out. You're bitter. You don't want anyone to know. You want it all for yourself." I take a step closer to him. "Let me out, _now._"

"Isabella, what have you done?" he asks. His fingers run through his hair. He's lost in thought. He looks up at me and his eyes suddenly fill with range.

A bead of sweat runs down my forehead, my temple, down to my cheek. I let one trickle down my lid. I will not blink. My parted lips are dry with adrenaline huffing through. I'm standing, legs parted. I will not move. I have the upper hand.

And I've had enough.

"You will not win," he warns but I do not waiver. I will never give in.

I lift a palm to the barrel and pull, feeling the metal lock. Loaded. His blue eyes never leave mine. I see them grow wider but he recovers quickly. His eyes narrow. He tries to hide his surprise.

"Now," My voice is horsed from crying. But the tears are long gone. Just as all control went along with them. I sound unfamiliar to myself.

"Never. You're mine now, sweetheart. And this..." his index finger twirls between us, "you _will_ regret."

My arms shake but not from nerves, but rage. The heavy Ivory tusk sits in my hands, heavier than it looked in Edward's hands. Its metal as slick as it looked laying on the bathroom floor that day. But this... this feels as though I knew this moment would come. And it has. It is mine now. It belongs to no one but me. My tool. My gun. The trigger never felt so... _exhilarating._

"Regret has no part in this," I say. He doesn't say a word. His eyes says it all. "Now, _Carlisle._"

He chuckles humorlessly. "Stubborn. Just as your mother." The mention of her sends flames like sulfur through my veins. My outstretched arms strain as I grip the Ivory tighter. "But yes, just as brave." he takes a step towards me nodding. "I remember. Stupid Bella, doing stupid things." He takes another step. I back away, the boots on my feet drag slowly.

"What have you done? Hm? I gave you enough. I gave you what you wanted." he says after his eyes move up from my feet.

"_Don't._..move."

"It's a shame, you know? To watch Charlie mourn the life of a loved one again. Watching your lifeless body being dropped..." his fists open, fingers wide in demonstration, "...right in to the cold ground. He'll be so sad." He mockingly frowns, his hands join against his chest.

He takes another step. I tense as he looks up in realization, eyes blazing, "But of course, he won't be! As a matter of fact, he'd gladly pick up a shovel and dig you a deeper hole, wouldn't he?"

I shake my head. Silence stretches. The corner of my lips lift in a smirk. His eyes follow and _his_ instantly falls. The thrilling feeling of his words falling short from its intended sting, soars. He is so wrong. He is so wrong I can't, for the life of me, suppress the eerie calm flowing through me. I almost want to laugh. But I don't. Instead, my index curls around the trigger perfectly. _Meant to be, meant for me_.

I let _Ivory_ do the laughing.

"Ah!" I scream. A bang.

I blink down and my hands are empty. I never pulled. I never counted. I turn and see Emmett by the door. His arm is stretched towards me on the floor—a gun in his hand. He jumps up. His grin wide as my eyes. He reaches and pulls on his sweater. He wears a black vest under it. My shot visible. It ripped through it but didn't hurt him.

And suddenly I'm pulled. My feet leave the floor. Carlisle chokes me. His fist in my sweater, bundled under my chin. I dig my nails over his face. His scar. His chest. I kick my legs. He doesn't even stagger. His eyes are clear and intense. He was acting. "How dare you threaten me...after all I've done for you. After saving your life!" I cringe. His grip tightens. His face close to my cheek. "You want to fucking leave? Is that what you want, Isabella?" he yells. "You think you can make it out there on your own?"

I heave. My eyes grow hazy. I blink looking up at the ceiling. I have no air.

"I'll show you, darling. I'll show you just how _proud _you'll make your mother." His words sends me reeling. I kick and punch and pull. But nothing.

"Emmett," he calls, "drop her into the deepest woods you can find. Let her find her precious _Charlie_ on her own. Her bed wasn't warm enough for her, I suppose. Maybe she needs a little lesson." He let's go. I fall on the floor and gasp air. Emmett grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet. I grunt. He bends to grab Edward's gun and pulls me to the door. I look back at the Doctor. His face blank. He wipes at a line of blood off his cheek. From my nail.

"You were wrong, you know..." I speak. His eyes narrow. His arms drop to his sides. His icy blue eyes look into mine. "You didn't save my life..." I shake my head mockingly. I press the pendant to my chest underneath my sweater. I smirk, "...Edward did."

Emmett drags me and I bend as I sag in laughter. I laugh hard. I laugh at Carlisle's face as he stands there watching me—because he's wrong, because he _finally_ let me go. The hallway echoes with my laughter and I soar.

I see the light of day. I squint and close my eyes as Emmett pushes me through a door. I tilt my face up at the sun and marvel. The heat is just as warm as I remembered. I smile. Because even if it's for this moment alone, _I'm free_.

—•—•—•

* * *

**A/N: Good shit? No? Tell me, I'll love you. Other _possible_ good shit comes next. Please go to my Profile for updating news if you have questions about late updates. I can vent there. I don't know how else to contact you about my thoughts in between chaps. Cool? Thanks so much!  
**


	15. Chapter 14: Free

**A/N HAPPY NEW YEAR! :-D**

**Ummm, it's over a month, I know. But could you blame me? Holidays and all. Really, I appreciate you all for waiting, adding, reviewing, rec'ing and even your "Please update soon" ;-) *heart* I'm elated! Honored! *raises arms and raspberries* **

**I was going to post last night but I went bowling. Ok, not true, I sorta got drunk. :-/ But could you blame me? My b-day is coming up this Friday. I'm already grieving, and 30 and a mess and yeah... I'm sorry. :-/ Sigh. Just make a small prayer for me on fri. I'll need it. Go read. Possible good shit coming up...? You tell me.**

**I don't own Twilight. I just own a Mini and my FF reading device—iPhone.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — **_**It doesn't even fit at this point from all the holiday cookies.**_

—•—•—•

_**Sound: Massive Attack - Dissolved girl (Thank you Vantastic. My resident DJ)**_

—•—•

**Chapter 14 - Free**

I try to believe in many impossibilities in life. I've made a list. A mental list I add to everyday—when I remember or when I can't believe what's in front of me. Things I've never thought I'd do or go through. Things that happen to others and not me. Things out of a newspaper clippings or TV. I've seen the aftermath of crimes from the Red Ribbon killer but never saw them occur. I still think of him. Who he is. Where he is. If he continues to wreck havoc while I'm here, unable to search for his clues or discover what he left behind. I used to write about them in another life and shared it with people to add to their own lists of impossibilities. Impossibilities that have become real. And we marvel. We fear.

At this very moment, I try to believe in as many as six impossible things. Things I never thought i do or go through._One:_ Being kidnapped. _Two_: Flying in a helicopter...

The cacophony of propellers is deafening noise. The sun flickers as they move. I stare. Fingers that no longer quiver with fear or adrenaline. They raise against my forehead and I shield the brightness behind them. Propellers move and move... and I've never seen them so close before. Shoulders cave. I cower. Nothing scares me now. Nothing, but the metal moving wings.

The pull of his hand on my clothes is rough. I'm weak in comparison. My strides are leaps. He pulls me toward the moving wings and I probably deserve it. The proof is in the forming bruise in his abdomen from the bullet Ivory let free. But nothing can take it away. The feeling...

_I'm free._

"And she smiles..." he says to no one. His tone incredulous. His laugh menacing. I ignore. I grunt from a push and fall into the helicopter pit. My arms shoot out to brace myself. He pushes me in further. I fold my legs in. He follows in behind me and sits before lifting me from under my arms. I'm thrown on the seat next to him. I slap and punch at his arms. We lift. I grab on to the sides of my seat from the jolt. He keeps a hand behind my neck, squeezing.

I'm transfixed. I watch from the window beside me as we ascend further and further up. The forest of trees grow smaller with the distance. It's beautiful and terrifying. I feel increasingly smaller than this world as we fly deeper into a blanket of green. The horizon is deep and never ending. The clouds in the distance thick and grey. I lean in further, his hand squeezes harder. It's no bother to me. The sun makes me warm.

He pulls me close and his words cut against my face. His lips by my ear. I can't pull away. "I'm not like _him_. I'll push you out of that door and see you fall. End it all." I watch the sky. I won't respond. His voice is vicious. He enjoys this. I wince, my lids squeeze shut. He pulls my head back by my hair. "You haven't an idea, do you? What will come?" he laughs.

The helicopter descends. Down, down and my stomach flips. Trees are soon surrounding us. Leaves pass by in blurs of green. I can see the ground. He leans and opens the heavy metal door. My breathing accelerates. A gush of wind rushes in. His grip tightens in my hair. I tense.

I'm at the edge of my seat and the wind pulls me. My hair whips all directions, over his arm and between us. My fists tighten on the seat. I fight now. Panic. I dig my nails on his one hand holding me inches from falling. He dangles me. My death beneath and I watch the ground swift by. His eyes find mine. They're blue and bright. Shadows of leaves and trees play across his face—his smirk. His lips part, "Darkness, Isabella. Only darkness comes."

And he lets go.

Impossibility number _Two_: Flying in a helicopter..._and falling._

The wind is knocked out of me. I can't even scream. My arms and legs flail against the fast and cold wind. I shut my eyes tight. I fall forever. The ground comes finally, and leaves and branches and rocks—I roll down a hill. I can't stop. I grab onto anything. _Anything._ It only burns my palms.

A tree. The bang against my shoulder, head and back takes all the air out of my lungs. I gasp. My eyes flicker open and I see treetops covering the sky. The propellers are far but loud. Black flutters out of where I was dropped and descends, right over me. A long heavy coat. A gleaming speck flies through the sky as it's thrown soon after, but it's too far.

My eyes flutter. Pain. I can't move. The propellers thwap away and they make the bird move far away. Blood oozes out of my cuts and I'm gone. Gone to where sleep takes me. Where pain doesn't exists. I can't help it...I'm free but what is it worth if you're completely lost in it?

He said _only darkness comes._

•—•—•

An owl hoots. I groan. I can't tell if my eyes are open. It's too dark. My fingers move, then my hands. I lift one slowly to my face. I search for my eyes. My fingertips touch and I know...they're open. _They're open. _"Oh god..." a sob. My arms stretch out in front of me, searching. Nothing. Critters chirp and sing. Leaves move in a breeze. An owl. I gasp.

I move my back, pealing it off the bark. My side hurts. My legs move but my right arm is numb. I turn to my chest and push to my knees. "Ok...ok," I take a deep breath, trying to calm the paranoia. Tears leave my eyes and I'm so lost. The coat falls off me to the ground. It's heavy and leather. I brace a hand on the bark and lift on one leg. I quiver. I groan and sniffle. "Shit." My limbs sore and weak. I still can't see.

I dig my fingers on the rough wood and limp to a stand. The ground under me soft. I try to look around.

Light. It's far. It illuminates the tress. The moon shines dimly. I want to go there, but I'm too scared to move. _Go. _My shoulders slump and I just stand there and cry, silently. "God I'm so stupid..." I whisper and I can't go back and undo things. Anger. At myself.

I shuffle my feet inches, trying to find a comfortable way to keep standing. I can't move away from the bark. I won't. I stare at the light and cry. Like a weak stupid girl who regrets. I gasp. I fidget. Bugs and flying _things _I can't see hover around me. They flutter over my exposed skin. My ears. My hair. I flick them away. I rub my hands on my pants and rub my face clean. Hours it seems. I cry. Like a stupid..._stupid _lost helpless child. _I tried to be brave, I tried..._

I bend and look for the coat blindly. My fingers brush against it, I grab it and stand. I flick it to free it from unwanted _things. _It's freezing. I shiver. It's big and I wrap it around myself. I hate him for this...but for _this_ I thank him. _At least Emmett gave me this. _

I chance it. After what seems hours I stomach churns. My fingers tighten on the leather and I move further to the light. _Left...Right... Left. _I look around me but nothing. My one hand is brave to reach in front of me as I go, one step at a time. My feet gets caught on things, on branches. My breath hitches and I brace my fall on a new bark. So many. So many trees. Only my feet makes sounds.

I stop and listen. Nothing. My hands shake and I don't want to be alone. _God...God, please. _I plead. My prayers go beyond the treetops, through the sky, right where He sits in His throne. I feel it. _Please. Help me. _My boots stick to the damp ground. I hold on to bark and pull them out. I wipe my face of tears and reach out to move. Shaky hands.

The light is closer and my steps grow faster. Like a child singing, making noise to drive away the silence and darkness—the deafening evil silence. _God, please..._

And He hears me. I'm panting and looking every way. I reach the light and its a big space. A gap where trees didn't infest. Tall grass sways with the breeze and the moon makes them blue. They shine with silver specks in a welcoming call. I walk in deeper. Something tells me this is the safest I'll be. I can keep an eye on every bend of every tree. I walk in deeper and trip on something hard. It moves. I step back. The grass is too tall. I look but can't see anything. I bend and reach hesitantly.

_Ivory. _

I gape at it, lips parted. _It follows me._ I look around me and then back at the dark metal. Relief. _Emmett must've dropped it. _Elated, I hug it close to my chest. I kiss it. I don't care. I look around and keep it in my palm... _just in case_. It's like _he's _here with me. I hated him and now I wish he was here. S_tupid...stupid. _He will kill me. No doubt. I'd welcome his punishment. Any. Though _this _is punishment. More then he's ever done. Never again. He's gone. I'm gone. Far away and I'll never see him again.

I sink down on the grass and curl my legs in. I breathe. I take in the space around me and just breathe. Like a companion has joined me, I feel minutely calmer. I shake off and rub my shaky freezing hands. And I wait. Wait for something...I don't know what. I curl the coat around me, over my head. Ivory is nestled between my lap and chest. I wait.

The moon and stars are bright and they mock. There are no wishes here tonight. None. Only whispered prayers to really be free. To Him who sits up there, who made the clouds, stars and trees I'm lost in. Paranoia never rests. I look and look around me.I pull the coat completely over me. I rock on my heels, over and over. Insanity. _Please God, please. _I was wrong, this is not free. This is lost. This is finding a trap in a open field. And it mocks. It terrifies.

Impossibility number _Three:_ Lost in a forest. Never in my wildest dreams...

I never sleep.

—••—•

I heard a bang. Like one that comes from a gun. A big one. I shot up to my feet and ran. I don't know where I'm going. I just started to run. I passed the tree that was my anchor. It was my bark and now it's forgotten. _I run._

Adrenaline surges through my veins. My limbs are cold and sore and it warms them. The heat rises through my neck to the tip of my head and I run. It turns out, I slept. I sagged under the cover of this heavy coat I still carry over me. It trails behind me in waves as my legs move and move and I don't stop.

"Urgh!" I grunt. My boot catches a root and my hands shoot out. Right to the ground. I scramble and run again. Leaping, skipping, dodging leaves and branches and holes in the ground. They crumble under my feet.

It's morning. I can see everything. The sun beams through treetops in bright yellows and whites. I thought it would never come but It has. But now night doesn't seem so bad. It was silent then. The stars and the dark were my only companion. They were silent. But this is loud. I don't know where it came from. _I run._

I look behind me and see nothing. _Who's out there? _I know this fear. The one where I awake and it's suddenly there. I reacted. It was automatic. I remember how it felt like when I was with _him. _I didn't think twice and my slumber switched to alarm. But this isn't a blade over my bed, or waking up in freezing water—this is vacant, the source is unknown. I'm alone.

I reach a cove where the ground is high like a hill. I cower. I look around me frantically. Nothing. I don't hear anything. The chilling breeze is the only thing present.

What if it _was_ nothing? A hunter? _Do people still hunt? _My hand finds my hair in a grimace. The question ironic. _Of course they do. I was hunted once. _Paranoia. I'm not be alone after all. Just the thought freezes me in this spot for hours. I try and listen to any footstep or noise. I'm beginning to think it was probably nothing.

I close my eyes and my back rests on dirt and roots poking out of the cove's wall. My heart slows. I take cool brisk breaths and let go. And all the sounds around me heighten. I can even hear my heart beating.

Water. A stream. It's far away and I'm instantly thirsty. My mouth and throat dry. My cuts are sore and scabs have formed. I hear no alarming sounds but birds and leaves rustling. I chance it. My thirst and fatigue wins and I make my way towards the stream. I climb over a bolder and I see it. A silent river. I want to run to it. I look around and make sure. A hill is high up above but no one is up there.

I sigh in relief though the water is freezing. My cuts sting. I cup water in my palms and drink and wash my face and neck. My hands grow numb and I shake off the frigid temperature.

I flinch and stop. A huff. A deep growl echos through the shoreline. Instantly, it isn't the water that has frozen me. My dripping hands linger on my chin. The fine hairs on my nape stand in attention. My knees dig deeper into the muddy dirt. I tense. I turn my head slowly towards the lurking presence.

A wolf.

My blood runs as cold as the streaming river. _Never in my life...never in my whole existence... _I choke back a staggered whimper.

White eyes pierce right through mine. Sharp teeth snarl visibly. The white and grey coat of fur camouflages with its surroundings, with the river. It just stands there. Yet, I die deeper. Deeper digs my knees into the ground. Deeper digs my nails into my palms. Two more wolves follow behind. They slowly flank the alpha. Their fur different and eyes different. And they stare. They stand there and just stare.

I move. They move. A sob. I swallow the thick screams wanting to escape. I roll onto my heels and unclench my tense fingers. I need _Ivory_. _But how?_ I don't think I'll make great damage, enough to help me escape. I look around me through my peripheral to see where I can run.

They move again. A growl. "Argh," I stammer back. I use the moment to shakily stand on my feet. I keep crouched. I dig into the coat's pocket. _And they move. _Unison. The flick of my wrist is faster. I lift it in my hand and point. I quickly look between them and the gun. It's locked. _Please, God..._

I lift my free shaking hand and they watch. The alpha's mane dips. Its snarl lifts, exposing more of his teeth. My eyes lock to his. I flick it. Ready.

_BANG._

I scream. And again, it wasn't me. A gunshot goes off from far away. The wolves ears shoot up. Their heads turn to look behind them. I take the opportunity and run.

I look back and they're gone. They've run off. I grip onto Ivory and run as fast as my numb legs will take me. _Hunters. They have to be hunters._ My heart only wishes and hopes. I heave and hold on to a tree. The bile rises up before I have time to breathe deeply. I bend at my knees and out it comes. I've had nothing to eat. I dry heave and I feel the veins on my neck strain. Acid. I wipe my mouth and try to stand.

I look around. Just like that, I'm alone again. My throat needs water but I'm too afraid. I limp forward. I have to find a new place. Somewhere far away from here. _Home. I want to be home. _

I walk hastily away from the stream and my knees grow week. A bark from a wolf. I hear it far away. I look back and I can see them. They growl and shuffle around in a semi circle on the edge of a cliff. _Someone is out there. _I hide behind a thick tree and turn my chest in to peak. My heart erratic.

I watch in horror as their teeth gleam. They slowly surround the edge, wanting to get closer. Too many trees and leaves, I can't see. I run to my left to another tree to get a better look. Slowly, the wolves crawl to one direction. They're following someone, _or something._ I follow their gaze, to whatever grabs their attention. I squint.

Across the river, beyond the trees on a hill, I see. With the strength of lighting, my spine straightens. I'm paralyzed because I see what they growl at. There _is _someone. And he's looking right back at me.

"Jake." I can't breathe. Nothing. _Nothing _can ever prepare me for this. Not the wolves, not being lost alone in the woods, nothing can ever be worse, than _this. _

He doesn't move. Not one inch. His stare menacing and his gun hangs limply at his side. He doesn't move at all, but others do. My knees buckle. Black clothed men trickle out from behind trees, from shadows. So many. They stand in attention and stare straight at me. The wolves grow louder. They roar with anger. I back away. I'm hypnotized by the tan face that stares from far away. But no one moves for an infinity.

I gasp. Suddenly, he moves. He charges. He launches right off the cliff.

_And I run._

Impossibility number _Four_, something I never thought I'd had to do again: Running to save my _life. _

—••––•

"Bella!"

My palm presses over my mouth. The veins on my neck are protesting again. But this time it's to keep screams at bay. This is beyond fear. I've never in my life felt this way. This must be how people feel before they die. But not in an accident. An accident is a unexpected. This is deliberate. I will die today.

For hours..._hours, _I've been running. I have gashes and open skin on my knees and arms. I've fallen so many times. And each time it only allowed them to get closer. Branches crack and bushes move as the black clothed men run through open trails. The same trails I ran through.

He's shouted my name five times and every time a new layer of paranoia builds over my chest. He sounds deranged. A maniac. His anger surpassed sanity. He's not the same Jake I once knew. He didn't die that day.

I hide under a cove. I'm laying flat and I don't move an inch. Leaves and earth surrounds me. I found a hole under a bolder. I tighten my grip on Ivory by my face. Someone is right above me. I bite down on my fingers to keep quiet.

_Crack._ I flinch. A pair of legs jump. They're in front of my only view. I point. Waiting. A man stands there for a stretched moment. He shifts. I grip Ivory. _I will shout his legs if he finds me. _He turns suddenly and walks away. I heave. My hands shaking.

"Bella!" he screams. This time it brings relief. A layer lifts. He sounds so far away. I'm suddenly relieved he calls me. It pinpoints where he is.

But how did they find me? How did they know I was lost here. Alone. Unprotected. My mind runs. Something must have happened. Someone must have told them. I think. I try all possibilities. _Was it Carlisle? Would he do this just to get rid of me? _He's probably done with me for good. He probably gave me up for their liking, so they'd do what they want.

Yet, he spent so long trying to find me. I know the truth. I'm an advantage. He would never just give up the key. _Me. _Would he? He probably waits for me to crawl back. Emmett. Would he give me up? He wouldn't unless Carlisle ordered him.

I don't know. I'm exhausted. The sun has set and I lay here for hours. Everything aches. So far, I haven't heard a thing. The man who was close is long gone. My muscles relax. I rest Ivory on my chest. I wait. But I can't stay here forever.

I slowly peak out my head and look around me. Nothing. I need to stretch. I crawl out quietly and stand. I'm not afraid anymore. Night has come again. I know how this is like. The paranoia of last night, gone. I look around and walk. I don't know where.

As if it waited for me, I hear a huff. My empty stomach churns. I freeze, my back to a tree. I know what it is. I look over my shoulder to see the white fur coat and sharp teeth. Again, it's growling. Again, it found me. I point Ivory right between his white eyes. I've had enough. But I stop. Realization hits me. If I shoot _they _will find me. They'll hear the gun go off. _Shit._

I back away. My mind ponders on how I'll get away. My heart is heavy. I look around me. I don't know what to do. My pockets are suddenly very heavy and I remember. My fingers quickly fumble to get one. The wolf gets closer. I step back further. I look down quickly at a metal star. _Thank you, God. _A rush of relief flows through me.

I brace myself and lift it high. _Flick it...as hard as you can. _I chant to myself. The animal barks. I hear a crack. Behind me. I tense. My eyes widen. I don't have a chance to look back. I gasp. A blur of teeth and fur leaps over me. I cower. I crouch. I crawl away as fast as I can.

It wasn't to me. It growled at someone behind me. The grunts of a human deep in the dark. I scramble to my feet. The wolf bites and bites on human flesh. Tumbling and fighting. It's loud and terrifying. _I run._ I run as fast as I can—right into a black clothed man. I yelp. My knees buckle. I look up at Jake's face. My whole body withers. A shock of fear runs through my limbs. I fall atop a mound of leaves.

"There you are," he says, a grin plastered on his lips.

Like a signal, the others appear. I watch black coats move into view all around me. I shuffle to my feet.

"It's been so long hasn't it? I've...missed you," he reaches to touch my cheek. I flinch. "You don't look so good. Are you ok?" He tilts his head as he glares. Terror runs through my spine. He looks demented.

"Jake..."

"Shhh shh. It's ok. I'm here," he hushes, he reaches out his hand. "Carlisle won't hurt you anymore. Come." I shake my head. "Bella, he left you here, to die," he says.

"How...how do you know I was here?" my brows furrow.

"Jelena. She's a spy. She was there to watch over you. Charlie sent me. He sent all of us...to save you." I back away. The red lips. The red hair. The woman in Calisle's office. I remember. _It was her_.

"No," a shake of my head. The mention of Charlie's name makes my heart skip beat. But something doesn't feel right.

"He needs you, Bella. He's been trying to find you. It's killing him." I whimper. Tears run done my face.

"Is it Masen? Does he hurt you? What did he do?" he asks, his face tilts in concern. My blood runs cold. His eyes grows hard. "I should have killed him when I had the chance."

He sees the confusion on my face. He nods. "I know who he is. He's dangerous, Bella." His gaze grows far away. "He escaped before I had the chance to finish him. But I marked him...I marked him for life. He deserved it."

_Marked. _Scars.I look into his eyes. They gleam with pride. He chuckles deeply.

"What do you mean?" My fist clenches over Ivory with anger.

He laughs again. "Silly Bella. I left Forks for a reason, you know. A Force hired me to run tests... experiments. I know about Esme and Renee. I know about you. It's why I'm here."

My mind races with everything Edward and Alice have told me. How they were saved. _Experiments...on humans. _Visions of the burning man in Alice's arms. Of Edward's scars. It all connects. I can't breathe.

Someone moves. Suddenly, through my peripheral, I see odd movement in the distance. A black clothed man falls quietly. And then another. _And another._ They don't make a sound. My heart speeds in a millisecond. My veins run hot. My muscles coil. _Someone is out there._

I snap my eyes back to Jake's. "You did those things?" I stall. "To Edward? To Corporal Whitlock?"

"Whitlock. So that's where the bastard went. Carlisle had him all this time?" he grins, his hands on his hips.

"Why, Jake? What happened to you?" I shake my head at him. I grieve for who he used to be. He shrugs.

"They knew too much. They're all bad, sweetheart. They would've ruined everything. For Renee...for you. Carlisle only wants the _Berry _for himself." His hand reaches out. "Come. Charlie and Renee want you safe." _And another man falls behind him. _I try to hide a grimace. The moon shines over spilled red from a slice to his neck. The man falls. I try to conceal my panting. I can't see who's out there.

I swallow heavily. "Mom and dad want this? They wanted others to be tortured and killed?"

"Anything to keep you safe, Bella. They would've done anything. Please," his eyes sincere.

"I need to see Charlie."

"I'll take you to him," he insist. His voice grows louder. We both move in unison. One forward, one back.

_And another. And another one falls. _I see an arm reaching around a man. It snaps his neck. My skin prickles.

_Move. Run. _My conscience screams at me. I grip the star still in my hand. "Do you promise, Jake? Over your own life...that you'll take me to him?" I try him. I look in his eyes. He blinks. In that quick indication, his eyes change. I see the forming lie. They flicker away from mine for just an instant. But I see it. I know.

"You can kill me yourself," he promises, his eyes hooded. A commotion occurs in the background. I see a black coat look behind his shoulder. He noticed._ Jake _notices, he looks back.

A shadow of a man leaps. His body flips off a tree and lands on his feet. Another man goes down. Blood gushes from him neck. The shadow is a blur as he runs into darkness.

_Move! Run! _My eyes snap back to Jake. He's looking away. I charge at him. I flick the star. He turns and ducks. I back away and watch it launch. A grunt. Another man drops to the ground. _I run_.

I huff and heave. I dodge and jump. Sweat runs down my face. I can hear Jake running behind me. I grab the last star. I flick. "Fuck!" he shouts.

I soar. My feet grow lighter with new found strength. Coats and coats of black appear as I run. In front of me, beside me...but they never get close. I flinch, my arms reach to cover my head. Gunshots flare. They drop like flies in every corner. _Oh God... _The cacophony. So many things happen at once.

I'm pushed. My feet leave the ground and I'm flying. My arms shoot out. "Argh!" I hit the ground. Ivory tumbles away from my hand. Jake lands on my back. I scream. The night sky brightens like fire, like sparks flying. Man after man drops to the ground. _What's happening? _

I struggle. I lift myself up. Jake grabs my arms. I kick. He fights. I turn on my back and he hovers over me. My fists connect with his face. Over and over. I strike with a knee. He grunts. He rolls off of me. I grab Ivory and scramble to my feet.

A war has broke out. Shots are fired from every angle. I don't know where they comes from. I run until I can't feel my legs. No one's behind me.

Finally, I collapse against a fallen tree. I heave and gulp air. My arms and legs shake. Silence. The shooting stops. An eerie calm. I look around me. Nothing. I see smoke from gunfire hovering from where I ran from. I roll to my knees and lean against the bolder. I hide and watch. No one moves. The mysterious shadow is nowhere to be found.

My trembling bloody fingers skim my neck. My pulse thumps there erratically. The ribbon. I find the cord, the hard tusk around my neck. I palm it. _Please, God...let it be him. _If it isn't, what if I've made a mistake? It could be anyone.

I gasp. Amongst the mist of smoke a man stands. A sob rips through my chest. I stand on exhausted legs again. I have to run. "Bella!" Jake shouts. I cry out. From fear and anger. I run and I run. I look back. I cry out again in pain. I trip and land on my knees. He's so close. I push myself to my feet again.

A shadow. A blur rushes towards me, faster. We crash. My screams are defining to my own ears. I'm spinned on my heels. I open my eyes and see Jake, his teeth grinding, his coiled muscles strain on his neck. He charges towards me. I try to back away, but I can't. A strong arm holds me down around my waist. A warm hand grabs Ivory in mine and lifts my arm along with it. My eyes flicker to the twin guns gleaming in the moonlight in front of me, side by side. At Jake. At his menacing face. I gasp.

Impossibility number _Five: _Firing a gun to _kill a life. _

He pulls for me. My index finger flexes with every pull. It pulls, and pulls. The twins push against our palms—one in his and one in mine. The ricochets rip through the quiet night. Jake's body drops. It is done.

My lips are parted, my heart pounding. The echos fade, everything is silent. I stand over Jake's lifeless body and watch through watery lids. _It is done._ My lifted arm drops to my side. I let go of Ivory. It stays in his hand. _Edward's_ hand. The twins sit in _both_ of his hands. Where they should be. Where they belong.

My cheek is warm, it's pressed against his. His chest heaves against my back. A sob. I sag against him. His arms fold around me to keep me from falling. Again, he saves me. I turn and fist his coat. I bury my face in his chest. I can't stop. Inconsolable. A weight lifts. My nails dig at his nape as my arms desperately wrap tightly around his neck, with the strength left in me. Alleviated.

I don't know what will happen now. I'm too afraid to know. I defied my mother's wish, I wasn't able to find my way out of this forest and find Charlie. I think of him as Edward pulls me away from this mess. I think of my mother as he sits me by the quiet stream on the shore. I stare out at the dark blue river. I'm numb, but a tense fist on his coat still remains. He cups a palm full and washes my face. My tears mix with the freezing drips down my chin. Over and over. Washing the blood and sobs away.

I don't know If I made the wrong choice. If I did, then why does the ending to this surreal day feels _so_ right. Relief never felt so freeing.

Impossibility number _Six: _Surviving.

—•—••  
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-Dave Eggers (from an interview with the Guardian)


	16. Chapter 15: Mint

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**Ok, I'm a bitch and didn't reply to reviews. This was a tough chapter, I guess I didn't reply because I was head on with this one. I was a walking zombie going to work in the snow while mental plotting. This was therapy. Hope you understand. But this one is a bit earlier than usual so I'm making up for that. ;-) Oh and GOSH, some of you are dead on and ahead of what's coming. You're goooood! Thank you!**

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_**Sound: **_**8MM – Give It Up (DJ Vantastic. She pre-reads and FEELS it.)**

—•—•

**Chapter 15 - Mint **

Like a mirage. I'm smitten. His jaw. His lips. The bob of his throat. I can't look in his eyes, but above them his hair moves a little against a breeze that makes me shiver. Tears still fall. I feel stupid. I feel beyond ashamed. He had to come all this way. My fist clenches the lapel of his open coat, my knuckles white. The metal zipper digging in the sensitive skin under my thumb. Like I fear he'd go away or disappear. This is something like a desert and you thirst for relief. But the only difference to the desert's sand is really thick grass, fallen branches and mold on tall trees. Greens. A mirage in the woods. That's him. That's now.

My breath hitches in hiccups as he cups water in his palm and pours it over my face. Relief. I exhale and sprinkles spray out of my lips. The next one he brings it to my lips. I look down and I'm hesitant. He insistently pushes forward and I eagerly drink. The freezing water trickles inside, down to my stomach. Euphoria. I realize how thirsty I am. The next palm full I reach out before it even arrives. My parted lips clumsily bump against the side of his hand, frantic. I don't care. I drink again. I faintly feel his gaze on my face. One more quenching cup of his palm and he moves on to my hands. He inspects them. Washing away the blood. He makes it all better.

It's quiet besides my soft sniffles and sighs. My body aches. It finally settles and I'm exhausted. My shoulders drops the tension. The panic. The fading adrenaline prickles my muscles. My knees have gashes and they're numb now. My palms the same. But these things are faint in the foreground of worries. There is only crystal clear visions of Jake. His face. The guns. The fear. He's gone. Laying cold on greens somewhere..

Life flashes before my eyes. But not mine. His. I just see him when he was young and carefree. His hair. His smile. And now nothing. Just emptiness. It's like I never knew him at all. I grieve for _that_ smile and _that_ boy, but not _him. _Not now. I want to hurt whoever changed that boy. But it doesn't matter anymore. It's too late. It's done.

My face and hands are washed enough. He's done and stands. No words. I limp to my feet. His arm finds the small of my back to keep me from falling again. And in that instant we collide. I look up and there they are. His eyes.

I shouldn't have looked. I knew better. Because now the worry changes. It's not about Jake or my sore wounds. His eyes are angry. And God do I know it. Of course he is. He looks away and I know it's bad. He doesn't even want to look at me. His jaw tightens. He starts to climb over the rocks we were sitting on.

My white knuckled fist is snatched off his coat. It burns. But like a magnet it latches on to him again. A mind of it's own. Because I can't let go. Not now. Not when everything that happened was mere seconds ago. I breath staggered because the mirage is walking away and probably will never looking back. But he stops. My fingers find his warm hand in a pleading hold. Fiercely. Like my life depends on it. Like it would keep the danger away. It has already.

He doesn't turn. I look at the back of his head. Waves of pleads from my eyes floating to him, _hoping_ he'll let me. He starts to pull away. My heart sinks. I inhale sharply through my nose and _please...not now. _I look around me still on edge. My right hand finds his thumb as it retrieves. It slips away. I reach out again. Two hands this time.

His head jerks back. His brows knitted. He looks at me. Yes, _pissed_. But I'm not letting go. I make my point and step up on a rock beside him, indicating that we can walk now. I squeeze his hand and I'm standing my ground. Wherever he goes, I go. I stare in his dark eyes and tell him all this without a word.

He was warm just a second ago. Kind. His palm still damp as proof. But he's now as freezing as the drips of water still running down my face. His hand is limp, unresponsive. My chin quivers involuntarily. I look away before he sees. I shuffle my feet, suddenly uncomfortable under his piercing stare. He doesn't say a word. I wait...awkwardly, wiping the water from my cheek with my shoulder.

An owl hoots and the ripples in the water hit the rocks on the shore, but they're not nearly as loud as my heart beating. A spark shoots from my fingers tips, palms and arms right to where it thumps. His fingers twitch around mine. Finally, he responds with a firm hold. He turns and pulls me sharply. I stumble to catch up behind him. Over rocks and sand and then greens. It's dark around us again. I walk closely behind his right arm, peaking around it. _Where are we going? _

I don't dare to ask. _A tent? Home? A helicopter? _Then, if it wasn't for his hand pulling me, I'd stop. The realization of thinking of 'Home' and picturing my room back at the lab. That isn't home. Home would be my apartment. My old life. But that seems years ago. I surprise myself.

But my thoughts are moot. He's still silent and I'm still struggling to limp faster behind him. I trip. I fall against his back with an "Umph." He stiffens. I wince. My mouth gapes in a silent scream from the pain shooting up my leg. I banged on a wound. I see stars behind my lids. His hand slips but just as quickly, both surrounds my waist. He lifts me up. I relax against his side, my head leans back against his shoulder as the pain subsides. He doesn't stop and continues to walk us both towards a light. I take a deep breath and see a glow of yellow far.

I instantly relax. A lantern brightens the make-shift shelter. A hefty military backpack lays in one spot beside a fur-like quilt. I look around when we arrive surprised at how livable the space seems to be. Like a camping spot, except the tent is made of a cove, leaves and a bark. It lays flat by a small mound of fire he quickly starts with a match. It grows and billows with warmth. Even if I had things with me I wouldn't ever know to make such a cozy place.

My limbs grow limp with relaxation as he moves back to my side to help set me down on the fluffy quilt. I sink into it...and almost sigh. But he's crouching above me, staring. The side of his face illuminated, his one eye bright. Faintly, he shakes his head almost unnoticed. His jaw tightens. An exhausted gesture of fingers pulling through his hair. I fidget, trying to sit up, but he shoves me back. "Stay," he says. His first word. It lingers in the heated air from the fire, and my cheeks. And I do, because I couldn't have sat up even if I tried. My lids are heavy. The weight of the world right off my chest. My head leans against a bulge of fluff as I recline. I look up at the stars beyond the treetops. He moves around but I don't care enough to look up.

But then I jump. My head jerks up. His cold fingers fumble on the skin above the waist on my pants. My stomach muscles tense. He lifts the sweater and pulls on the buttons of my fly. "What are you..." and I trail off as I'm jolted from my hips when he pulls them down. One by one, my boots come off too. I try and pull away, folding my legs in. He sighs heavily, throwing my pants beside his bend knees. He pulls at my ankle covered socks with both hands. "What the fuck?" I stammer.

"I have to check you out," he says looking down at my exposed bottom half.

"Excuse me?" My head is spinning. I cower from the exposure again. He reaches and digs a finger into open flesh on my shin. I yelp. "Jesus, that fucking hurt!"

"No shit. Do you need help of not?" He watches me for a response.

I look down at the long gash on my leg. The blood is trickling down. The area around it is purple with dirt invading it. "Shit." And just with one look, I'm dizzy from seeing so much blood. The smell of copper. I hiss. My shaky fingers hovering over it. "Um...ok, yeah." I whimper.

He pulls off his coat then, jutting out his chest. He rolls his eyes away from mine. He takes his time rolling up his sleeves from his black button down wool shirt. A dark gray, long sleeved thermal shirt under it is pulled along with it to his elbow. A bit of his ink shows and I stare at it like I always do because it's rarely exposed. He's prepared. He pulls out sterilized gauze, tape and ointment for wounds from his bag. His forearms tense and relax with every movement. I forget my state of dress..._or undress_ and just watch. I gulp when he pulls out a packaged needle. He looks up and catches me. I sit up straighter and occupy myself with looking at the cut.

He bends over me and I willingly stretch out my legs. I give up. It's not like he hasn't seen me in my underwear before. But again, a spark of a gentleman shows when he pulls an edge of the fur quilt over my lap. I blink, wondering how long it'll last. He bends my knee over his lap and gets to work.

I lay back and run the fur quilt through my fingers. It's softness hypnotizing and my eyes grow heavy again. He's so gentle, I can't feel a thing. I sigh. "What kind of fur is this?" I say avoiding the real questions that hang over my head.

"Bear fur," he murmurs after a pause. He continues.

"Is it...real?"

"Yes."

I nod, swallowing thickly. It's awkward. "Did you, um...kill it yourself?"

"Yup." I start with a yelp. I grip his shoulder. He injects a pain killer with the asshole needle to numb the area. "This is going to hurt a little," he says softly. His warning late and meant to piss me off. And gentleman has taken a hike. I bite my hand whimpering when he continues to prick in different areas. His other hand is clamped under my knee to keep me from moving.

"Fff...uck," I stammer. The excruciating torture is over. Beads of sweat on my forehead and neck. He cleans the area with water from a canteen and dabs it dry with a gauze pad. I watch, nipping my bottom lip as he leans in. My heart thumps oddly. His lips a breath away from the red skin. A warm blow trickles all over. His brows wrinkle a little. His slight pucker dark along his profile. A shiver. I flush.

"How did you find me?" I say hurriedly, clearing my throat. He pulls away and looks at me. His brows knit deeper, but this time in anger.

"The gun has a chip. If I loose it—and I _don't like_ losing it, I can find it."

"Oh." _Geez. _His attitude throws me off. I remember where I _found _it. It wasn't like I took it. Well, besides taking the stars and the knife.

_The knife._

I sit up. The back of my thigh lands on his hip. I lean in to look for it strapped to my ankle. I press my lips together when I see it by my pants and boots. _He found it. "_Well, if it's any consolation, it made me feel...safe." He doesn't look up. "And saved my life," I continue after a moment. I watch his temple as it flexes with a clamp of his jaw. He winces slightly.

"Thanks to you," I whisper. He turns finally, finding my eyes. I hold my breath. He's close like this. I can look up into his bright green eyes. The fire reflects in them, dancing in yellows mixing with specks of jade. No anger. I wonder if I ever seem them this close—as calm, vulnerable and sincere. But they shift. Down to my lips.

"You would've never pulled the trigger." His words minty against my cheeks and nostrils. I inhale deeply at the mint and the sting of words, shaking off my reverie. His eyes crawl up to mine again.

"You had all the right to pull, too, after what he did to you."

He nods, looking away. "He had it coming. I was just waiting for the day."

"Aren't you angry?" I ask. He seems unfazed. I flinch slightly back as he jerks his head to look at me. I inhale sharply at the intensity radiating off him. His brows furrowed.

"Angry? Fucking enraged. I've been angry over many things in my life. But that's one I won't have to worry about anymore." I blink. A slight nod is all I can give.

He continues with the dabbing and cleaning of the wound. He closes up the separated skin. I cringe. I stare at his eyes moving as he works and wonder about all his rage. The many moments that made him what he is now. The way he took out all those black coats. Like nothing. Like it wasn't even a challenge. _For me._

"How did you do it? Like...get all of them. How did you know how many there were?" I have to ask. He chuckles softly.

"Because I counted them." My eyes roll.

"Of course."

"And...because you helped me."

My eyes grow wide. _Helped? _"How?"

"You distracted him."

_He noticed. _I swallow thickly. I watch his hands. The same ones that used a knife on them. Ear to ear. "I wasn't sure if it was you. And then they followed me the entire day. I had to hide for _hours_. And then those...wolves," I blink back watery eyes. "I was so...afraid." I whisper. I shake my head. I don't know why I'm venting it all. His eyes close for a second.

"I know." He nods. He tapes the last piece together around my leg. He's done, but his fingers linger on my leg, rubbing his thumb over my ankle bone. But that gesture is forgotten when my breathing hitches. I brace myself with shaking hands beside me. His free hand cups the back of my knee again and he lifts my leg. My bottom slides closer to his thigh and lifts off the quilt. I blink rapidly wide eyed. He gently kisses my knee. "You did good. I'm proud of you, though I'm still very..._very _angry with you." He looks up. He let's go.

I gape. Tingles, tingles and tingles..._and what was that?_ I gasp inaudibly.

He runs the palm from under my knee up my thigh. He pushes my leg off his lap from my ankle. I flinch at the burn. My skin prickles visibly where he touched. Heat lingers. His eyes locked to mine.

"Sleep." he finally says, breaking the heated air that grew thick in mere seconds. And in it, I can't find the clarity to fill my lungs. _Still angry. _He's angry at how I risked everything at the Lab. All while he was gone. I know it. He doesn't have to say anymore. I look away ashamed at putting him through this and flushed at him putting me through _this..._

I fold my legs in and scoot back. I blink away when I peek from under my lashes. He still watches. I pull the long coat off and drape it over me—just to have something to do. He reaches behind me. I tense. His face above me. He pulls more of the quilt around me. Warmth. I can't help but sigh this time. The gentleman has arrived and by the looks of it, he's here to stay. He folds up my pants and lifts my head to use them as a pillow. I cower inside this cave of fur. Dumbfounded. Stunned. _Blushing everywhere. _The heated flames in me billow like the fire.

I can't look at him. So I close my eyes wondering how I'll sleep now. I watch the light of the fire dancing behind my lids—and listen to his soft breathing as he sits by me.

—•—•

Coil. Stretch. Sigh. I turn to lie on my back and my nose finds a warm spot. I sink deeper. Warmth surrounds me. I forget where I am. But then I don't think I've slept this deeply in weeks. It's that feeling. It's knowing you don't want your lids to lift and see intrusive light. _No._ I lie here and this is where I want to be...for hours. I'm in cased in a haze. A lovely haze. I nuzzle soft fur. My throat bobs with a swallow.

_Flutter. _Wings by my ear. I flick it away with my hand. "Stop," I mumble. I dreamed of years ago when I'd awake to pranks from Jake. This time he brought in a snake into my room, and snuck it under my pillow. _I know your games, you jerk. _It's him again, I know it. But it just gets louder. Tickles from prickles over my cheek. Light weight, but enough to interrupt and _fuck_ with my sleep.

I suck my teeth in irritation, "Stop, you jerk off!" I go to flick it away but my hand is stopped by another. A deep chuckle. My eyes snap open.

"_Don't_...move an inch," he whispers. I turn my head anyway. Edward—looking down at me with a slight smirk on his face.

I squint. "Wha...?" He reaches down, his index finger and thumb pinched. The tips of them touch my cheek. And instantly flames rekindle. I remember. I exhale lightly blinking up at him. My eyes grow wider, the sleep washing away with every hard line of his face. I see what he reaches for. I'm wide awake now. He lifts a long legged beetle off my cheek.

I scream murder.

I scramble to my feet and here I am...in the middle of a forest, jumping, screaming, jerking my head from side to side and wracking my hands through my hair to get the bug _the hell_ _off. This..._is how my morning starts with none other than Edward Masen. And he witnesses all of it from where he sits with one brow lifted. Staring at the havoc that is me—Bella Swan, _The Maniac._

I stop. I'm panting. Hands pressed over my face. Eternity. _Ground, open up and swallow me right now...I beg thee. _I stand here and silence. I peak from between my fingers. Yup, He's still there, staring at me, mouth ajar. "Uh...right." I straighten. I run my hands through my messy tangled hair, "Thanks...for that." I nod. And I drop my hands to where my palms slap against my bare legs.

_Bare legs? _I look down. Right. Half naked too. I pull on my sweater and dissolve down to the quilt. _I probably looked like that crazy girl in Flash Dance. Shit. _My teeth find my bottom lip as I look else where...but him_. _I grab some fur to cover me again. I clear my throat. Scratch the back of my neck. I fidget. I inhale sharply through my nose. My spine arches when I feel something on my back. I compose myself again under his gaze, resting my chin on my hand. Sheepishly, I grin.

"I was going to ask about your leg but...um, it seems to be working just fine," he says. I wince.

"Um, yeah, definitely. I mean it's, you know, still a bit sore or whatever. Hurts when I touch it. But yeah..." I nod stretching out my leg, "Thanks...for that too." And I'm blabbering again. I look down at it. I reach quickly to straighten out my sloppy sock on the stretched out foot. My jaw tightens with an internal "_Fuck"_.

He clears his throat. I look up through my lashes. His knee is bent, his elbow resting on it but I know. His palm is covering his mouth. _He's laughing. _I look up fully. He stands quickly and walks to the fire pit but his shoulders bobbing are clear as day. _Wow_. I bite my lip and I can't fight a grin. _He's laughing at me. _My eyes roll. Something deep in me tells me this is a rarity anyone would be lucky to witness. I'm secretly willing to sacrifice another humiliation...just to see him laugh.

He turns. And just like that, he's composed. His brows are furrowed making me wonder if he was laughing at all. He's so confusing.

I skim my eyes over his appearance. His dark copper hair is in disarray. His sleeves are rolled back down. His black pants look military with pockets by his knees in saggy bulges. Combat boots tightly fit around his calves that look as though they ran through a war and back. But my eyes linger on his dark eyes. He didn't sleep a wink. I suddenly feel guilty. He was probably keeping watch while I slept.

"I boiled water to clean up." His hand holds up a small metal container. "The river is too freezing to bathe in."

"Oh." And I don't know what to say. "Thanks." _Where the hell am I going to bathe? How? _My nerves spike instantly. I look around me.

"Up," he says. My back straightens. _Ruthless is serious again. _He extends his hand and I take it quickly. I take my pants and pull my the long coat around me. He leads me to a corner. Tall trees and a tall bush covers the area around us. Very private. _Oh. _He lays the bucket on the floor and hands me a cloth around a bar of soap.

"Wow, you're prepared," I chuckle. I look up at him. He doesn't find it amusing. _Of course he's prepared...he came all this way knowing I had nothing. _Shame. I nod. "Thanks."

"Quickly," he warns and leaves. I stare off in his wake, frozen for a moment, gripping my pants in my hands. I sigh. I look around me and this is weird. _What if someone is watching? _My skin crawls. My dream comes back to me and _oh god_... All of last night's memories rush right back. This isn't one of Jake's pranks. It's real and it hurts immensely.

"Dammit, Swan." I start. Edward shouts from close by. He can hear me _not _moving quickly. I drop my clothes on a fallen bark and pull off my jacket. It feels like I'm peeling it off. I hesitate with my sweater, looking around one last time. I sigh and quickly take it off. I finger the red ribbon necklace, the tusk. I nip my bottom lip. _I did get to see him again. _I'd be so humiliated if he knew I had this. But I forget it for now. Maybe he wont choke me with it when I'll find a chance to give it back. I take off my socks so they wont get wet. And I damn well refuse to take anything else off. Working around it will just have to do.

The water is perfect. I cup palms full of water and splash under my armpits and..._this is ridiculous. Never in my life..._

I wonder, as I work, how many times he's had to do this. How soldiers have to do this to get by in foreign places. I respect them all the more for what they do. I look down at the soap and he's probably used it. The soap has a nice fresh masculine scent. I breath it in deeply.

Suddenly this is a brilliant idea. I feel refreshed. I get all my underwear soaked but I pretend it's a bathing suit and it'll just have to fly. I even managed to relieve my bladder and I have never been prouder of myself. Smug, I slip of my clothes over damp skin. The breeze that flutters leaves does its job of drying it enough. My teeth clatter. It's freezing. I wet my hair enough to untangle it with my fingers. Curls form in all angles. I sigh contently. _I must look like shit, but not bad._

I take everything and head back to the pit. He's sitting on the quilt again, one leg bent. He looks calm. He shifted the quilt to accommodate a big enough space for a picnic-like set up. My stomach growls. I can't even remember the last time I ate. I set down the bucket and soap by his bag. "Thanks for that, again. I feel like new." I chuckle awkwardly and sit in front of him. He watches me for a second and pulls out a dark pouch and tosses it my way. I turn it in my hands. "Um..." I look up. "What do I do with this?" I ask since he's intent on telling me what to do all the time.

"You eat it." He gets to work on his pouch. He peals it and pulls out other pouches just like it, but smaller. A spoon with teeth falls out. _A spork?_

"I what?" I snort. I don't get it.

"Swan, just fucking open it. It's an MRE. Food." He's irritated.

"Oh." I peal it and pull out the same looking pouches. "So, like, military food? Meal Ready to Eat?" He just looks at me. I nod. "Never...um, had one of these. They say it's loaded with sodium and vitamins? For, like, soldiers, right?" He opens the biggest pouch and sticks the spork in it. I follow suit. Tuna and rice. _Mmm._

I think he's ignoring me. I peak at his face. His jaw moves. I don't think I've ever seen him eat. It's...fascinating. He savors everything. His tongue juts out the corner of his mouth now and then. His odd graceful twitch of bouncing and catching the pouch slightly in his hand to dig deeper. I've never noticed how straight and perfect his teeth are under his full lips. Even over all his yelling close to my face. I roll my lips in at that thought. _I haven't brushed._

He opens another pouch; Crackers. He stuffs them in the tuna pouch and crushes them for a nice bite to every spoonful. I watch _that. _My spork midair. He's done this before. I'm transfixed with his seeming ritual. I follow suit.

My curiosity builds with every mystery pack unrevealed. I open all of them before he does. _Peanut butter? Awesome. _I dollop a spork-ful on a cracker. It's saltier than usual but not bad. I dollop a chocolate covered graham cracker I find too. Lemonade powder, instant coffee with all the fixings, pound cake, dried cranberries. _This is amazing. _Multiple desserts and snacks in one meal. A day's meal is more like it. I even find a wet napkin. I save that for later when my bladder protests again.

"This is...surprisingly entertaining. The anticipation. It doesn't even disappoint either. And a spork? I mean, seriously, I can't even remember the last time I ate with a spork. Grade school, probably." I giggle. I look up and he's staring. He stopped eating to watch me. Empty pouches lie everywhere around me. I slouch, biting my lip.

"You always were so curious about...everything," he says. He takes another bite where his utensil lingers. I blink away. I clear my throat uncomfortably.

"Uh...always?" My neck feels warm with seeping red. _What does he mean? _He speaks on his own accord. I didn't even have to ask him a question this time.

He nods slowly. His eyes deep. "Always. Your career choice fits. You managed to always find trouble." I stare it him, slightly taken aback. _He's talking about my job?_ Memories flood my mind with things I'd been through at work, things I've seen. Impossibilities. Looking back, I guess he's right. My curiosity influenced moments I could've avoided. But what is Journalism without curiosity?

"Well, I guess...If I didn't go out of my way to find truth, I never would've. There was always something to discover," I respond timidly. My mouth clamps shut at his expression. A crease at the corner of his mouth curls. He doesn't respond. His smirk an infinite of secrets and of knowing. I don't know what it means. "Why? I mean, how would you have known?" I give him a sideways glance.

He doesn't respond, his curl still intact. My eyes narrow. He shakes his head slowly. Dismissively. His eyes still glued to mine.

He grabs the canteen beside him. He tilts his head back and takes a drink. His Adam's apple bobs. My eyes shift. And I watch _that. _His ink is showing on the side of his neck. It's like they move too. The canteen comes into view and blocks what I'm watching him do. I look up, blushing. He hands it to me to drink. I grab it hesitantly and look down at the nozzle...where his lips were. The corner still gleams from spilled droplets. I bring it my lips. I'm partly aware that I purposely turn the bottle just enough to get my lips wet. My eyes close. Delicious. The cool water trickles down to my stomach. And I remember when he gave me water last night. My blush deepens. I take another sip and hand it back.

"Finish eating. We're walking," he says after taking another pull of water. And just like that, the conversation is over.

—•––•

I try not to gasp loudly. I can't lie, I'm paranoid. I don't know where he's taking me. We've been walking for an hour now. Too many noises in the woods, even in daylight. I look behind me. Nothing. Edward looks back at me, probably wondering why I'm lagging. His jaw set. I play off my fidget with a scratch of my ear with a shoulder.

I try to focus on his large backpack over his shoulders. The rolled up quilt under it. I don't know how he carries it all. I offered to carry something but he ignored me and pulled it on without a word. He doesn't seem tired. I, on the other hand, am short of breath, probably because I can't calm my nerves and definitely because I'm so out of shape.

_Crack._

I start. I look behind me. A bush far away. I thought I saw it move. I look in front of me and I'm falling behind. I jog lightly to catch up. _Is he hearing this or is it just me? _We climb a bolder. He jumps over and grabs my waist without me trying first. My hands on his shoulders. I slide against him. Flush. I side step him and he continues to walk.

We are getting near to where we were last night. Were Jake is. I know it. I remember running this yesterday. It seems like a dream. I look at his face. Blank. He wouldn't know. _But why would he be taking us back here? _I want to leave here, find the city and then Charlie. It itches in me. I need to do this, even if he refuses. I want to ask but he looks like a lot is on his mind. And I admit I'm a bit afraid of him when he's like this.

I yelp. I cover my mouth. A bird squeaks in panic beside us. It flaps its wings and flies up higher to a tall tree. Panting, my strides quicken.

"_Umph," _I grunt, my face smothered in Edward's wool covered chest. I jump in my skin again. I look up and he's watching me. "Sorry," and I don't know why I'm apologizing. He looks over my head and scans the area. He pulls out a small black eye piece and peaks an eye through it. I'm guessing it amplifies his vision from far away. So many gadgets. I don't ask.

I sigh looking down. I wait for him to finish his _Rambo_ duties like he does every few minutes. But his hand is _right there. _Between us. It's partly covered with the open cuff of his shirt. I reach for it. _Fuck it. _He's about to walk away but he stops. I slip my hand in his, squeezing. Vice grip. _See if I care. _I look over my shoulder, pretending, like if this is the most casual thing to do as I look around me.

_I just really need this right now._

My teeth find my lip when I feel his hand respond. Relief. He pulls me. He cradles my hand in his perfectly. I look forward but keep my head down. We walk. A new spring to my feet. I feel loads better. The paranoia subsides. I can breathe again.

I trip.

"Fuck." A roll of my eyes. He lifts me with said hand. I look up and he continues walking, shaking his head. I want to snort for a moment. _God, I'm a mess. _

A few yards and he stops. He bends, his hand still in mine. His other fingers skim small leaves on a batch of dirt by the roots of a tree. My brows knit. He pulls on a few and stands. He walks. I catch up to his side to see what he's doing. He brings one to his mouth and his jaw muscles move as he chews. The stem of the leaf snaps lightly. Off his lips. He doesn't look down at my curious face. But I look at him when he licks the pad of his thumb and pulls a delicate leaf off of its stem. It melts into the moisture turning a darker green.

"What's...ugh," I manage to say with a flinch. He stops me from speaking. He reaches over and jams his thumb in my mouth. The leaf on the tip. _Mint_. My strides slow to a stop. My eyes flutter closed. And where I'm standing, a beam of sunlight strikes through leaves and lands on me. My eye lids glow. My head tilts up. My face warms instantly. But not of the heat from the burning star, but of the taste of his burning skin on my tongue.

My lips slowly closes around him. I pull. Feeling the delicate leaf melt off the tip. I savor it. The strength of the leaf's flavor is not nearly as overwhelming as to the strong digit—the delicate taste of him. The leaf. It sticks. The tip of my tongue finishes circling its roundness. It doesn't catch it. My lips let go but I pull again, wrapping my lips a second time. My bottom teeth glides it off with a graze. I let go with a pucker. Skin sounding against skin. I inhale deeply.

Shiver. Right through every vein of my limbs. His finger lingers. Tracing my bottom lip to my chin. I open my eyes and his face... It eclipses the sun. Shadowed. Expressionless. His staggered breathing on my skin. Mint. Just like yesterday. The feelings come rushing back. Through hooded lids, I stare at his lips. Parted. And I wonder how those taste like. Always curious, he said. _I am._

So close, I can see when they move, just a little. Closing up. He exhales and turns away. His jaw tense. Angry. He pulls me. My heels fall flat on the ground. I was reaching with the tips of my toes. I didn't realize. But it doesn't matter. He pulls. It past.

My shoulders let go with a drop. Rejected. Mortified. I look down at my feet. Stupid leaf. It tears into pieces in my mouth. Like my scattered thoughts. But I keep it there, still tasting the moment that only felt mine. One-sided.

Though I feel it. It doesn't lie. His hand grew warm. I stare at it. But it loosens. He doesn't want mine. I stumble behind him and look up at him. His jaw still set. He's letting go. My heart speeds. I don't know why, but it bothers me. _No. _I shift my hand. Finger threaded through finger, my thumb under his. Vigorously. _Where has he gone?_ So Sudden.

I catch up to his side. He refuses to look at me. _Beyond angry_. I want to ask what I did. What's wrong. But nothing. Just like that, he let's go. It burns. He bends and picks up something. I don't even notice. I stop and just look at the back of his head. Confused. I clench my warmed palm. Nothing.

He moves forward and into a blanket of tall grass. A damp fog forms a cloud around us, making it impossible to see far. He bends. Something else in his hands. His boots are the only noise against the helpless grass—splitting, moving, creating space just for him. It is inferior in his presence. Nothing can stand in his way. Not me. Not even my heart that is set on hammering out of my chest. He pushes forward, farther away from where I've planted my feet, refusing to go further.

He turns. His expression dark. Tormented. Hard. This is new. I've never seen him this way. It frightens me. My nerves spike. My knees weak. There's something. I can't see what it is. The knowing smirk from way back turns to a menacing sneer. And it all daggers and aims at my eyes.

A sharp click.

I inhale deeply. A blink. His hypnotizing eyes fall short to the sound. I finally look away from his face. Down at what he has in his hands. A rifle. Larger than the length of his arm.

My eyes grow wide. He holds it up to his chest. Ready. But I don't understand. His eyes never leaving my face. I look behind him. Around him. And then I see. We're here, the same place where it began.

My muscles coil instantly. Tense. I gasp. I can't move—because all around us lie lifeless men in black. My hand finds my mouth. Bile. I step back. My boots hits something hard. I stumble. A bloody hand. I hold back a scream and step the other way. _So many. Everywhere._

"You asked how I did it, Swan?" He speaks, unmoving. I look up. "How I _got them all_." He repeats my words. They're cold like knives. Slicing. Stinging. His teeth grind. Nostrils flared. His cheeks shake with anger. "Always so curious to know. A year of looking, wasted questions and time. And all along you knew...right in front of you," he nods, "But I'll show you." I shake my head. Confusion.

"Edward..." my voice weak, pleading. But he cocks it. I start. The bullet in the chamber, just like he taught me. It's ready. But for what? I look at his finger on the trigger. A nightmare. He snapped. He's gone insane. My hands begin to shake.

He lifts it closer. To his face. His eye level to the target lens. I take a step back. My hands spread before me in surrender. My head spins. I don't know what he means. What he's doing. _What has gotten into him. _

He shoots. I scream. Hands over my ears.

Shot after shot fires off the rifle. All slicing through the thick fog in mere seconds. I watch, slow motion, his face raged. Eyes black. The vein on his forehead pulsing. He's gone. That's not Edward. I lost him. He shoots and shoots. Relentless. Ruthless. At target far away.

He stops. Echo fades. And like fallen birds, men fall the same. I look. And there _was_ someone. We were being followed. I knew I heard it. He knew all along. Planned it. Three black clothed men fall to their death. Yards away where they were hiding.

Edward drops the rifle. It rattles to the ground. The backpack beside it where he slipped it off. He reaches behind his shirt and pulls out leather gloves. He slips them on. With mouth ajar, panting, I watch as he swaggers my way. He watches me through lashes until he's standing over me. Chest to chest. He doesn't let me move.

"Argh!" a staggered gasp. I wince. He pulls my head back by my hair,_ hard. _Tears drain from my eyes. I'm forced to look up at his lost eyes. I push against his chest. But his arm snakes around my waist. Trapped. I whimper. Everything is so fast and his mouth is on my neck.

"Is this what you want, hm?" He bites. Licks. His nose skims my throat to my jaw. He buries his face at the crook of my neck, kissing and up again. Under my ear. Inhaling. "Is this what you want _from a killer?_" he hisses against my face. A shiver runs up my spine. I'm frozen.

"Stop..." I whimper. Terrified. I cry and he doesn't stop. I punch at his arms. His shoulders. I pull at his collar. Nothing. He pulls and pushes. His mouth everywhere.

"I'm a killer, Bella..._a fucking killer. _And _this_ is what you want from me?_" _his voice pained and tortured. Pulling my collar with his teeth. Sucking down my bone. The hand pulling my hair moves to my nape, squeezing. I can't move away. My knees buckle.

I reach with shaking hands and cup his head. He slows. His lips travels up the column of my neck. He settles. Cheek to cheek. We sway in his tight embrace. His heavy breathing against my hair. I don't know what to say. I'm too afraid. My chest heaves between us. I just keep my hands steady. Waiting for him to stop. To come back. But one last time, his teeth find my collarbone. Slowly. They clamp around the ribbon cord. Red. He pulls. He knew I had it all along. It scratches my skin and snaps. He catches it in a gloved hand. The tusk pendant slips. It falls to the ground.

I can't look at him. My lips tremble as his nose skims my cheek. "You already know everything, Bella. Everything there is to know about _me_. I'm a monster. A machine. I was made to kill." He shakes his head against my forehead, "You don't want me." I swallow thickly. I'm speechless.

He rips a piece from the strand in his hands and I know. I know what he means when I hear it rip. I can't breathe. My fists clench. My stomach stirs up bile again. Everything rushes back. The scenes, the deaths, the late nights working, discovering new blood draining down pot-holes, washing away all the sin. I've seen them all...and he did them all. Every single one of them.

A red ribbon flutters through the damp breeze in his gloved hand. And I understand now. I watch it fall. Down into the palm of the cold hand by my foot. I've been looking for him, for so long. All this time, it was him...

The Red Ribbon assassin.

—•—•

—•—•—•

* * *

**A/N: O.O ….Whatchu be thinkin' 'bout dis?**

**I see you adding. TY!  
MujerN on Twitter. Go follow. ;-)**


	17. Chapter 16: Want

**A/N: Holy mackerel. THIS. CHAP. KILLED MEH. Srsly, I weep blood writing. (ok, a bit dramatic. but I went cross eyed like 21 times). I'm not ignoring you guys on purpose, I'm actually plotting and writing, LIKE NUTS. Had to write this one twice. Scram, GO READ! :-) **

**Fic added to Writer's Coffee Shop. Go see link at my profile.**

**I don't own Twilight. I just own a Mini and my FF reading device—iPhone.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — **_**Off.**_

—•—•—•

_**Sound: ****Bichi - ****Whirl a stream of comfort, to cool and surround me, until I lose sight**_

—•—•

**Chapter 16 - Want**

Brown watery spheres stare into hard green ice—honest, confessing eyes. A year in clippings, frames of light in memory runs through my mind. Everything. So much blood. All from his hands. So many people. "_You._" Him. _All him_.

"Let...go of me," I hiss. I shove his arms away. Fiercely. With all my strength. His desperate hold is nothing compared. They are weak to my disbelief. They fall to his sides defeated. His eyes shut, exhaling from his flared nostrils. "Don't touch me," venomous. His eyes open and they're dead set. He pulls away.

"Good," his lips curving around sharp teeth. A stab. He's won. This is what he wanted. All this time. Distance...from me. But the smack across his face takes the victory away. _It's mine_. For the lies. For my reddened neck. For mocking. For _this. _My palm burns, throbs from the sting. His face snaps to one side from the blow. He steps back with eyes shut. They open and they're different. He doesn't look back at mine. Down, with knitted brows, looking at anything but me. Shame.

_Good._

"Bella..." But I'm gone. I turn and walk away. Adrenaline. My feet move to a sprint.

_Move. Run. _And I do.

"Swan!" I can feel the tension of his deep voice against my retrieving back. My knees almost buckle. The anger. He strains with the scream. The sound traveling far away through trees and my speeding heart. He calls again. This time composed, but I hear the masked desperation. I run faster. Tears freeze against my face, to my temples.

No more. You can only take so much.

—•—•—•—•

Grass and dead leaves crunch under my boots. My skin is crawling. Every follicle on my skin erect. No hand to hold and make it all go away. That hand turned to vines, gripping, growing, infesting and infecting. I shake it off. My palm sweaty. The feel of it still lingers. Just like his lips on my neck. It burns still. Sharp teeth scratched skin that turned red...irritated, like my patience. I dig my nails at the heat from rushing pulse. More pain over the pain he made. I cringe. A new wave of prickling on my skin. Quiver.

He follows me.

I'm leaving. Complete and utter disbelief. I ran away. Far away. Where _he_ isn't. Where none of this is. Numb is not even the word to describe how I feel. Betrayed? Fooled? Cheated?

_Hurt. _

I trusted him. _God, I trusted him_. Completely. With every frightened fiber in me. Where are words to describe it? Thoughts scrambled. Only the graphic moments are clear. A lifeless man laying in a crimson puddle. A car parked in the middle of a harbor, encasing another man with a bullet through his skull. A taunting red ribbon in the palm of his hand. Cold. Pale.

I gag.

Purging is acid on my taste buds. Taking out everything I've seen. Out. I reject it. I can't take it. My hair curtains my face as I bend. I know he's watching. I can feel him. The vibes of tension, his steps faltering, because he sees I'm sick of this. He knows. But he keeps away. Yards. A speck of him. He knows better.

It's hard to believe how close i wanted to be. The distance is dense with irony. I feel foolish. For wanting. For even considering the mere thought of proximity. A new gulp of bile crawls up. _He's a killer. _

I wish he'd go away. I wish my legs were strong enough. For my balance to be steady enough...I'd loose him. But I can't. The blood in me boils and runs cold all at once at the thought.

The one man I feared most. The one who took over my dreams. He was a ghost. Surreal. Yet, he walks behind me, watching every move I make. He follows. He knows who I am, my name, my fears and weakness. He knows my past and where I came from. All along, when I thought I was invisible to a character I wrote in articles, he knew _me. _He's real.

I stumble forward. Steadying myself with bark. I must find a road. A bend. Anything that'll get me away and closer to Charlie. My last resort. The last one I can trust. But I've been walking forever. My bad leg aches. My tears dried on my cheeks long ago.

I bend under branches, walk around boulders, trees, push at leaves. I get nowhere. _Fucking nowhere. _I stop to breathe. To think. My hands shake...from the pain. I whimper as quietly as I can, shifting to one foot. My hand pinches my knee, too afraid to get any closer to the wound, to distract the pain. I don't want to show it hurts. _Fuck him. _Never giving the satisfaction.

And I tell him. Out loud. I turn and scream it at the top of my lungs. _Fuck you._

He leans on a tree. He waits. Nothing.

I move, he moves. One step after another. I probably shouldn't scream at killers. Killers with a rifle in hand. I subconsciously walk faster. Dodging trees. Taking sharp turns. He's not there when I look. I pant and watch. For his sleeve, for a branch to move. For his fiery hair against greens to appear. Nothing. I walk some more. A left here. A right there.

I look again. My eyes dart both ways. Gone. A new wave of prickles. _Where is he?_ He's silent. He's hiding. Eerie. I want to believe I lost him. I try to find elation in it, but my heart betrays me.

I hate me.

Need is greedy and isn't prejudice. I shove my worry and pounding heart aside. _Fuck him._

So many sharp turns lead me here and I didn't notice. I walk in deeper to another shore. Trees stop and for once it's air and water flowing through a river below. I walk up the edge of the cliff. The crashing of waves on rocks are furious and white. The temperature low as it hits my exposed cheeks turning cold. My hair whipping in waves. Freezing.

I'd jump in. _I would._ If it would get me far away from here. All rivers lead some place bigger. To another shore. Civilization. Where people are. Going about life. I need to be there. Where help is closer.

I sway. The pain won't go away. My teeth grind. I close my eyes. _I'd jump...in a heartbeat._

"Is this what you want?" I start. Eyes snap open. Dizzy, I look down. A small rock by my boot falls to its death. Warm breath on my neck. "You wouldn't have the guts." I gasp with a wince. My boot slips slightly. Warm chest on my back. I can't step back. My fingers ache to grab a hand, even if it infects. But the hand I want doesn't touch me...not a fingertip.

"Do you know why...Bella?" My other ear. The silent pause deafening. "The moment of impact will feel like a thousand knives spearing your skin.. Your heart will go into shock. You won't breathe. The rush will pull you down...down..._down_. Where you won't fight, because it won't let you. Pain...will be the only thing left to feel."

I swallow a whimper. The abyss in my pit gapes. It sucks me in**,** telling me I'm stuck. I watch the treetops far away knowing that I'll never be free from _this. _Or be where the river leads. Ever_. _He's wrong. I'm not afraid. Intimidation is all I hear when he speaks. All the time. _Fuck him. _I can make him quake too.

"At least I'll _feel," _I say to the wind. It whirls. Pushing bravery. Pushing me to take a step.

I lean forward.

Hands find me. I'm jostled roughly. "Fucking insane!" His balled fists at my collar under my tense chin. My feet are dragged back. "_Are you fucking crazy?" _he growls against my face. His eyes enraged. He really thought I'd do it. He doesn't see I knew he'd catch me. He doesn't know _I know_ what it feels like to dive. A hundred times, like I was taught. I was fearless and young once. _I can make you quake too..._

"Don't fuck with me," I spit. Daggers in his eyes. He gets it. They change when he finally understands. He pants. His chest heaves. I've never seen him so exasperated. My eyes are greedy scanning the fear radiating from every plump vein on his face and neck. _This is how he looks like when he's terrified. _

"You don't get to touch me," I hiss away the silence. His nit brows straighten. His grip loosens. He let's go. His eyes close.

"Bella..."

"You don't _know _Bella. You don't know _me_." I nudge at his chest, "You _made _me trust you. For what? To take from me what everyone else wants? Fucking lying piece of..."

He palms my mouth. Smothers the anger and words replacing it with his. He squeezes my neck. He shakes with rage that goes deep into his grip. He rattles me. "This is all about you?" he growls_. _Betraying flinch. I blink. "Shut your mouth or I'll fucking slice your tongue off. You don't know a thing. You're too fucking selfish to see what's right in front of you. They would've cut you to pieces for your precious fucking _key_.

"I've protected you. From _all _of them. Even when you went out of your way to get killed." His voice is liquid acid now, silky with hatred. "I should've let them take what they wanted. Something I'll never fucking care about more than keeping you alive."

Every article I wrote had the same underlining, purpose..._me. All of them_. _All for me._ Tears of anger slip and I want to scream. I dig my nails on his hand still over my mouth. It doesn't move. I'm panting through my nose above it. I ball fists to bang on his shoulders.

"You find trouble and you keep fucking up. You don't get it." That sends a jolt of strength through me. I snatch his hand away with a grunt.

"I did it for my mother!" I push him. He steps back from the force. "Wouldn't you? You were taken. You were used. How did you find trouble? Is that why they marked you?

His eyes slightly widen. Speechless. I surge with adrenaline at finding the right button. I push mercilessly. His eyes says it all. The layers peel right in front of me.

"We're not that different," I shake my head. "I couldn't just sit there after listening to my own mother beg me to _do something. _

"Fuck you. You weren't there, the gun was. If you wanted me stay in my room, you should have left a fucking note attached."

I can only hear my breathing. The river below crashes and we're silent. Staring. He's blank. Not a thing showing on his face. His hair whirls with the wind, surrounding us in tension. His lips parted, pale, a hint of sharp teeth. _Speechless._ I can hardly breathe. He doesn't say a thing and it irks me. It's not like him.

"Help me find Charlie."

"No." His voice hard but calm. He doesn't look away.

"Please, I need to find..."

"I'll kill him if you try."

My breath hitches with the stab. My heart thumps hard in my chest. _He wouldn't._

"Leave."

He flinches. His light eyes slightly blink.

"I don't need you," an unwilling whisper.

"You don't need me." His smirk slowly appears. Taunting.

"I don't."

"Are you sure? Think hard, I won't be coming back."

My stomach churns. Bile threatens to rise. My eyes sting. I swallow back the lump of words he promises. He'd end this. _Just like that._ I rub trembling fingers over temple, my eyes. I sway. He catches me. And I _hate_ how he just does that.

"Leave!_" _I push him. "Get out of my face!"

He reaches for me again. He doesn't move to go.

"_Leave me alone!" _I scream. My fingers curling to fists.

He takes a step back. A blink. Wounded. His extended hand hangs in the space between us. The space I wish would expand forever. I don't want his hand anymore. It won't help me. I watch it fall to his side. Another step. His shoulders square. His spine straightens like his expression. Hard. As if he's let his guard down and he quickly rights it. He catches it. The layers mend again. The angry Edward I've grown to hate and know and found safety in, has turned his back on me. He walks away.

_Good. _

I hate me. I hate who I've become and my feet for moving towards him. One step. And no. I will not. _Fuck him. _

He picks up the rifle, and leaves the quilt and bag behind. I stare at it on the ground and I know. He leaves it behind for me. All the food, water and shelter. I want to run and throw it at him. Scream for him to take it back or the guilt will eat me. I watch and my eyes water.

I look up when he turns. The clouds open and the dimming sun allows him the last unspoken word**. **The day is growing dark with evening but It's bright and warm where he is. The hue in his hair is brighter and sways over his forehead. His eyes dark and piercing...looking straight into mine. Waves of prickles run over me and I want to run towards warmth and the sun. But I'm frozen, where I stand to watch in the bitter cold.

He turns away. He leaves. I hate me.

I watch him grant my wish and I hate what I've become. He's far now. The sun is gone. Clouds rumble over and it's cold again. His back broad, shifting under his shirt as he moves. His head is down and he's moving away to where I'm not. But I don't follow him. I stay. Where waves crash and crumble over me. To my bare bones. Where it sheds all anger, and turns blur to clarity. He left only because I sent him away. He came all this way when he could've left me here to die. He cares.

_He wants me. _

But his words linger from hours ago. _You don't want me. _So very like him to want me but not allow me to feel the same. When he can, I can't. He's so confusing. Torn. He tries to control even this. Everything. And that boils in me. Because I breathe with lungs that can't hold so much of this weightless air, knowing that even before I met him, I knew. I kept it in the deepest core where my darkest secrets hide.

All along, I desperately wanted him too.

I want him and every flaw that makes him. Sins and temper and self-loathing. I want more than to hold his hand. To wrap myself around him, in him. Crawl into his marked scared skin and stay. All along, it's what I've wanted. But I can't tell him. He's gone and he promised he'd never come back. It's so like him to keep me suspended on a weak string. It snaps and leaves me here. Vulnerable. Raw. _He wants me._

Rain comes.

Drops mix with tears and it pours. Freezing. Teeth clatter and I don't know how long I've been standing here.

Thunder.

I will my legs to move. I run to trees, where he was. I lean on a bark, pain, and stare off into the woods. Nothing.

"Edward!" But It's too late. I call and call again. He keeps his word.

Growling.

My fingers dig on green moss. Tense. The blood flowing in me freezes. Thunder doesn't growl. I don't even have a star with me. Not a single blade to flick. Ivory left with him. Everything went with him. He took it all. I turn my gaze over my shoulder. A wolf.

Snarling.

It's close. Wild. Ferocious. Paws stomp under him, closer and closer. Teeth gleam, wet. Pale eyes haunting. Waves of prickles flow, but not of hope...of fear. Raw fear. And I have nothing.

I call his name again. Desperation. But thunder is too loud. If I run it'll catch up. I wish I was fast enough, strong enough. But running won't suffice. Not now. It leaps.

I scream.

Right over me. I look behind me where I kneel and it tumbles. It straightens to its feet. I crawl farther away. _The bag. _It's close and I chance it. The wolf barks and snarls while crouching. It will charge at me again. I take branches and rocks. I throw them. It whines and hollers. Wounded but angrier.

Trembling fingers look for something..._anything_. But it's too late. It leaps again.

"Bella!"

I land on my back and shoot out my legs. I kick. My foot lands on fur. Gun shots. Blurs of white and gray and teeth. I roll to my knees to stand, to run. Anything. To get away. The one sound I yearn to hear is back and calling my name. Far away. I stand and turn to see him. Not a glimpse. The animal leaps again. A growling wall collides against my chest.

Weightless. The sky is above, below and round me. Diving. Falling. I can't even scream. Flailing arms. Numb legs. And in an instant, he appears above, looking over the edge. His eyes. Terrified. His voice is above, calling. Agonized. It's the last thing I hear before I hit the crashing waves.

The world turns and flips upside down and inside out. I don't know where the top is or where it begins. I hold my breath and it burns. He was right. He was so right. Knives. My body convulses. Black threatens to come. My limbs cramp. My heart pulses in my chest and ears.

The current is strong. I float, limply. I try to open my eyes, but I can't tell if they already are. The insistent current hurts. Pushing.

Memories of home flash before my eyes. I can see them. They look so real I can reach and touch them. Laughter of kids jumping and playing in water. Jake teaching me to float. I hear them flood my ears. I reach out my hands and try to touch anything. Diving was never this frightening. The river pulls and pushes and you're inferior.

_Fight. _He told me. He taught me to kick and paddle just like him. _Open your eyes, Bella. Find the surface. Swim across the current._ _Fight. _And I do. My eyes struggle to drift closed, to give up, but I kick. I punch at the wall of pushing water.

Light comes and I'm frantic. My lungs burn. I reach and kick and it seems so far. _Fight. God, please, help me. _My prayer and fingers reach air first. I heave. I finally emerge.

"Bella!"

I whimper. My arms are growing tired. I swallow water. I choke. A wave submerges me again. My clothes heavy and pulling me down.

"Fight!" he shouts when I come up again. I swallow more but choke. I thrash my arms to turn towards his voice. And I see him. I submerge again under an angry wave. _The coat. _It pulls and pulls. I cease my limbs from moving...on purpose. I sink beneath where the waves rush above me. I shake it off. The leather sticks and clings. _Please, God... _

The current is rigorous. My body jolts. A rock. I slam against its side. Pain. Specks of light flicker behind my eye lids. Weakly, I hold on. The rock helps me lean and climb. I leave the coat hang off my shoulders. I need air. I grip the rough surface and pull myself up.

The sky appears...and so does he. I heave watching him run down the shore. He jumps and climbs fallen trees. His face full of terror, flushed, red. I hold on with the little strength I have left. He calls my name. I want to answer but heat trickles down my face. Another crash of waves tumbles over my head. I dip. The current pulls my legs underneath the rock. Loosing sight of him again.

My eyes flutter. I lean a cheek on the rock, my front flush—this time I strain. I pull. I thrash the leather away. Off. My legs kick towards freedom, frantic. I see the light again. Air. _Him. _He climbs the rock and relief rushes faster than waves.

"Take my hand!" he shouts. But I can't. He's too far. I'll slip off again. A shake of my drowsy head. Dizzy. He calls and calls and crawls in deeper. My eyes flutter. The rock is sponge and it's slippery. My fingers are loosing grip. Black.

"Bella!" I start. Awake. The way he said my name brought me back. Like anguish taunting a person in desperation. I strain to look. His face hard, determined. His eyes dark and twisted. "Don't you dare give up on me. Move, now!" I blink. _Weak._ He knows me through and through. My strengths, my weakness...I don't want to be weak.

I stare at his hand. It shakes. I want it. I want _him. _Deeply. I let go and I reach.

I whimper and his strength is fierce in a grip. He lifts me. I grow weightless. Our bodies collide and he's under me. No more strength in me. I let go and let him. His arms wrap around me. His warmth not nearly enough. He pulls and hovers above me. Ground beneath me. I can't move. It feels like I'm still under water. My eyes drift to the back of my head. Something feels wrong.

A pressure on my chest doesn't lift off. It caves in me. My body is motionless. _Your heart will go into shock._ I want to scream. To tell him I can't breath. _Please..._

I'm limp in his arms and he runs. Treetops are all I can see. And I remember something like this once. So long ago. The day he came to me. The crash, Mike and Angela. The moment this all began. And I can't move now as I did then. I just remember. Images of the night and trees passing me by.

He drops to the ground. Hands. Ripping and pulling. Shaking strong hands. He murmurs my name. His warm breath by my ear. "Stay with me." And I will. I want to tell him. But darkness invades like a parasite behind my lids. It's too cold. It burns. He pulls the soaked fabric off my torso, chest, arms—over my head. My skin exposed and bare. I'm scared.

Hot tears spill against my temples, down to his hand cradling my head. _So scared_. I can't feel my heart. It doesn't pound in my chest or pulse in my ears. A sob. But no sounds. The only sounds are rustling clothes, frantic heaves of worry. _Him._ I hear it close above me. My head on the crook of his warm neck. His speeding pulse through his bare chest. He pulls me into his lap and under warm fur. He wraps the Bear around my shoulders.

Everything blackens. He fades. I slip. I don't feel anything. It's peaceful here. Suspended again. But this string is ten fold. Strong. I can never fall. I don't want to wake. I jolt. He doesn't let me sleep.

My chest constricts. I heave a forced breath from a bang to my chest. His fist. My lips and throat feels warm from contact, he breathed air into my lungs. His shouts above my head. A warm palm over my heart. "Breathe for me."

His fingers at the button on my waist. Pulls. Everything. Off. I can't move. "Never. I'll never leave again," the whispered words drift over and over. Between us. A chant, a sway and a, "...never again."

Warm skin. My front is pressed to his. I'm enveloped. I just breathe. I do it because he tells me to. Cheek to cheek and we sway. _He wants me. _Everything in sight blurs. His hair at his nape I see over his shoulder. His neck, the trees and a gray skies. All of it.

The parasite wins. I drift. But I know. Deeply. I do. _I want him too_.

—•—•

_A dream. Blood soaks my hands. Dripping on pavement where I kneel. Streetlights glow yellow over an empty road at night. Red. Silk ribbon tangled with my veins and coming out of me...onto the ground. Spreading forever. To where a shadow of a man stands far away. Watching. _

I gasp. But I can't open my eyes. My fingers twitch. My arms crossed around my front, palms on my tense shoulders. Warm skin all around.

"Don't leave."

_So much blood. Fear is present like a person. I tell it to leave me alone._

"I'm here."

"Please..."

_The ribbons are part of me. They grow and twine from cut skin. Exposed. Flesh. And they grow and grow from me. His eyes glow like lights. I'm blinded when they look into mine._

"Never again."

I sigh. Frustration behind my eyelids that won't go away. Words that make it bearable. Safer.

"Sleep," warm murmur against my forehead. Feather-like touches on my cheek, my eyelids, lips. Caressing.

"Ok."

_Fear runs away. It can't stand the presence of a man. The man with light bulbs in his eyes. He comes closer. One step at a time. Towards me. I'm helpless._

"Edward?"

"Yes, Bella."

"I really do..."

"Do, what?"

_He comes the mile from far away. And still he watches. My eyes have grown used to the brightness. I stare, transfixed. He stands in front of me. My hands still bleed. They won't stop. He bends and pulls the silk ribbons. Handfuls. It hurts. I whimper. But I let him. Because I can't take the burden. He takes them away. Free. The blood stops._

"I do want you."

_I watch and he folds the ribbon up. Rolling and folding them into a ball. Curls slip out from edges forming an imperfect mess. But he buries it. He digs pavement with his bare hands. The ground crumbles underneath his palm. To sand. The ribbons disappear. _

"I know," _he says looking up at me. The bright eyes dim. I can see the Jades. The sad eyes. Torn. Beautiful. Like he shouldn't give himself to me. Like it kills him. But he took the ribbons away anyway, and saved me._

Warm skin is too far. I unwrap my arms and find more. Pressed against me. Around his waist. Pulling him closer. Where I can be cradled in his neck. The hand I want now skims my spine to the small of my back. This is where I want to be.

—•—•—•

Soft sounds and breathing. The fire behind me crackles. I startle awake. _What happened? Where... _and I remember. The water. The wolf. _Him. _"Oh, God." My head aches. But I stare at light dancing on bark and leaves. It's dark. I reach to touch my forehead, but I can't. They're occupied. Holding. Twitching on bare _him. _My breathing picks up in an instant. I suppress it. Controlling.

_Inventory_. Fingers. Hands. Arms...legs. _Tangled legs. _Everything tangled. No limbs are mine nor his. They're one mess. And just like that, my back arches. _God... _I found his hand. Nestled underneath the waistband of my underwear. The side of my bottom and hip..._heat. _His thumb spilling over the small of my back. The billowing fire doesn't compare to the burn.

He sleeps.

Prickle of new hair on his jaw, under me. My flushed face rests on his cheek. His steady breathing on my shoulder as are his lips. His face. Buried in my neck. My heart like humming bird's wings. I gasp a breath to hold in and _oh God... _I'm naked. And I remember—pulling, ripping clothes. Off. My bare peaks rub slightly on his chest with the pull of lungs filling. His lips twitch on my shoulder. I freeze. He nuzzles. A bob of his throat. He settles again on his bent arm.

My eyes widen. Blinking. Focusing. _God... _Because they drifted to the top of my lids at that feeling. Shiver.

After a long moment of not breathing and waiting, I lift my cheek off his. My hair has dried. It curtains his face over my shoulder. _And God he's beautiful... _Nothing could ever look this lovely. Sleep changes him. Makes him whole and normal and anything but regular. He's peaceful. And no one would believe he is who he is when asleep. His taut jaw, full lips and lashes deceive. Those lashes have never seen danger or fear. In sleep, they are just made to fan his cheeks, gently. Just so.

How do I tell him? Now? Wake him from his sleep, bring alive all of what he is to tell him I do want him too. Just as he is. My staggered breathing tells me I should. _Now. Don't hesitate._ But the way the hallow of his throat moves when he swallows, breathes, tells me I should wait. He needs the rest. His heart has had enough for today...for a night...for a lifetime. It can only take so much. He's seen so much. And even saw me dying.

The ache on my sore chest tells me so. My ribs. My chest caves in a wince. Separating from his front. _And God..._ how both of our skin are stuck and unstick and let go. Hours of contact. So delicious. Cool air rushes between and I miss the heat. Peaks find their spot against his pecks again. I hug him close. Because he can't see or feel what I need. And what I need is to take advantage of the feeling. I'll take whatever and however long it lasts. From him. Forget shame and being exposed. He's seen it all. I could care less.

_God...how I want him. I really do._

Why can't he just be for me? And just like that, we are. No worries or pain or fear of the unknown threatening against our lives. Or mine. They don't want him, they want me. Still. Why?

So I lay my cheek back on his and I pretend. This is us, but in another circumstance. And I met him some place that wasn't scary or filled with confusion or pain. We lay eyes on each other at the same time. He smiles. So do I. And I know that just a shy hesitant introduction sets this future life of 'together' like an avalanche. History. No wondering if I'll always be alone. Watching happy couples walk hand in hand and wonder...always wondering. He'll be there and I won't need to hope and dream. For he's just exactly what I'd wish for over a cake filled with lit candles.

I turn my curious nose towards his prickled jaw. _Him. _My eyes close at the masculine scent. Hints of greens and woods and sweet skin. It's all I want.

But then I open my eyes and it isn't so. Not the normal happy life. This is complicated. This is extraordinary. The marks show how different it is from what runs through my foolish hopeful mind. The past remains there...on his shoulder. So close I can touch it. Like I've always yearn to touch. Curiosity. Fascination. Vines and ink and skin.

My brows furrow just thinking of the pain he must've gone through. They're so real. They rise off his flesh like a knife's edge dug in and trailed to make the shapes. Feather-like touches of my fingertips follow the trails. From his arm, to his shoulder, to the dip of his neck. I feel horrible for telling him those awful things. For reminding him. _Stupid. _

A kiss. Over his heart. Another where the vines begin. It feels right. I linger.

Twitching thumb. I freeze.

Burning, intrusive hand squeezes my hip and out it moves, up my back, into my hair. The wings flutter in my chest again. _Oh God... _I look into green eyes staring down at mine...and lips. Too occupied to notice his breathing changed. _Feeling. Hearing._ My need.

I gasp.

A blink and he's hovering over me. Just like that. My back touches fur. My head never touches the ground as his hand cradles it. I'm a mess. A heaving mess and he just stares. _Shit. _I can't tell if he's mad or accepting the feeling. _God...I know he feels it too. _

Our tangled legs allowed mine to end cradling his thigh. Rubbing over his pants. His weight fairly on me. My eyes flutter. Fighting to keep them focused. And nothing. He. Just. Stares.

He doesn't say a word. He's himself again. The peace left with sleep. The lashes don't even provide a blink to his piercing stare. _Torn? Angry? Please be anything...good or bad. I can take it. _I can be reprehended for getting too close, for touching his skin that he lets no one else touch. I'd apologize but I'm not sorry. _I'm not. _

The rain that came and went lingers with droplets on leaves and branches. Right over us. Something does makes his eyes shift. It grabs his attention. Droplets escape. I inhale deeply at the feel of one on my cheek...the other on my chest. He watches it go. Down to my dark, hardened nipple. I dare him. With a stare. With a slight arch of my spine. I can hardly breathe. _Please... _I know he feels it too.

Nothing tells me to stop and I don't intend to. I plead with a heated glare, with trembling fingers on his chest. Nothing. _Nothing._ Not fast enough for this speeding heart of mine about to burst. I reach. I strain my neck out of his palm...and lick. _Right there. _Where his lips are parted and heat comes out of them in strained huffs. I stay close and watch his eyes darken. Waiting.

_And there_...I see it. He feels it too. His full bottom lip quivers. _My undoing. _I moan. Hands and legs and chest find heat again. Lips crash and pull and bite and I'm gone. So much time I've spent angry and afraid. I won't let it keep me away...ever. Not with him.

His shoulders, his arms...all the strain and tension goes away. Layers and layers that makes _him_, fade. _Just like that. _And we kiss. Like it was meant to be all along. He's frantic. I'm frantic. His hands all over my sides, my breasts, and mine finds his neck. His hair. I pull and grip. Deeper I fall when his tongue touches mine. _And God... it's just as it should be. _

None of this feels out of place. I marvel at how natural. Fitting. Lips that have yelled and sneered with angry words towards me, no more. Not the same. The anger turns to gentleness and affection. The staggered exhaling from his nose on my cheek as he tilts his head. Deeper. I feel him kiss like _this_ is what he meant to say all along. Passion.

He's desperate.

I open my eyes and see his closed, his brows furrowed, and I've never seen him like this and it tugs at my heart, aching in my chest. Making it hard to breathe. He moves to my bottom lip, pulls, and it feels like he gave up holding back. He can't anymore. He never showed me this much. What he truly and simply wants. Not a machine. But a man wanting, needing—like he should be. He finally let's go. Prickles all over me. _He wants me._

I kiss his chin, up his jaw. It scratches over my reddened lips. He kisses too. The apple of my cheek, temple, under my ear. Inhaling. But we're too far apart it seems. I sigh when he finds my lips desperately again.

My chest constricts. _Too much. It feels so much._ He feels it too. His hand free from my neck pulls and cups my bottom. Lifting me off the ground and back down again. His fingers curl below, at my waistband. Like he tries to get closer but skin to skin is not enough. I want to burst. I writhe to get it out. To ease what's building inside. Writhe what has hardened on my thigh. Frantic hips for friction.

I heave a needed breath. His lips find the stray droplet and pulls. I arch and _Oh God... _His teeth and lips and tongue. Hot and wet, circling around the puckered peak. All of it. My stomach muscles coil at the sight. My lips part with a pant. He doesn't miss a speck or freckle. He looks up at me. A staggered sigh slips from my lips. His gaze. The same gaze he wore when he saw me bare through my soaked nightdress. I remember. _He _remembers. I fall slowly. A hint of his white teeth. He bites. I moan. It's dizzying. I feel myself tighten just watching.

I want more. _More. Anything. _I slip my hand down his chest. Rippling, taut, moving. Pressed to my middle. Nails, digging. His muscles tense with the feeling. My knuckles brush against his abdomen. Low, where I can find more.

"Please..." when he doesn't let me. His rough hand grips mine as I find his hardness between us. His breath hitches. My thigh rubs against his pant covered hip. Rough on sensitive skin. But nothing. He licks my other dark taut nipple that waited for attention, sending my lids fluttering.

I try another way. _Anything. _I pull at the sides of my panties. Mid way down my bottom. But he's heavy and I can't reach farther. My arms stretch, jutting out my chest. I grant him more. I'll burst if he doesn't allow _me_ more. The writhing pushes the panties lower. My folds pressing against him...a seam. I find a rhythm when it slides over my swelling clit. Wetness rubs off his restrained member. I could care less. I moan.

My hands finds the small of his back and up over his shoulder blades. "Please..." nails. They cave with the feeling. His lips trail up my chest, neck. He finds my lips again. My fingers dip under his fitted waistband. I'm crazed. _So close._ I can't kiss anymore. Uncoordination doesn't let me. My head falls back and just feel what he lets me. His lips at my throat. His hips move. I encourage more. He bucks once, and I know he feels me too.

A quivered sigh when his knees bend and his hands finds the useless fabric. He pulls. Off. My moan echoing through darkness around us. But I don't let him close the gap. I take advantage of what I _need. _My knees bend and widen, around his. He gazes, below...distracted. His chest heaving, muscles contracting under the dark ink. My hips writhe underneath him, wantonly. My legs falling wider at his knees. I watch him watch me. Open. Exposed. Desperate for friction he took away. _Shameless. _

He just stares above me. His hands resting at his thighs as he kneels. His eyes dark, flickering from the fire. Hungry. They travel from my sex to my eyes. Heat rises up my chest to my neck. The front of his pants tenting, straining. _I want him._

I rest on my elbows and reach for him. My palm cups him trailing to his belt. He stops me. I look up and his palm is flat on my chest. He pushes me gently on my back. His eyes telling me to stay. My lids flutter as his warm breath travels over my cheek. He hovers, pulling my arms over my head with feathered touches.

I look up at him. His lips inches. I lift my head to kiss them, but he pulls away. A hint of mischievous on his face. His hands trail down my sides. Shiver. A writhe.

Finally, his hands move over my knees, down to my inner thighs. Achingly slowly. _And God... _One swipe of his thumb where I need him. Spreading heat to my clit. I buck. A moan.

Swirls and circles and I'm thrashing. My arms above me finding fur slipping between my trembling fingers. White knuckles, gripping. I will my eyes to open to look at him, not wanting to miss a moment. His arm muscles moving and his eyes on mine. My hips lift at their own accord. He holds me down with his free hand. His lips part as he watches me cry out. His finger and then another, plunges inside me. Curling, spreading, making my inside tighten and pull around him. Deep. Feral.

My eyes and middle tighten, bucking into his hand uncontrollably. H_e _pumps, over and over, circling my swollen nerves with his thumb. He watches. Erotic. I can't stop the sounds coming out of me.

Another finger...my legs tremble. His thumb rigorous over my clit. One perfect rhythm. I grip his forearm with a gasp. His fingers reach a delicious spot. Tense. I cry out. I let go. The black sky my focus. Heat dissipates in waves. A breeze cools my skin from warm prickles. From my head to the tips of my toes. They curl. I push through the last thrusts against his fingers. Wet, glistening in the dim light as they disappear through his lips.

I pull myself up with his arms, to get closer. To reach him.

"I do...I want you," I finally tell him by his ear. His eyes close. Panting on my neck. A drop of rain glistens on his temple. I want to lick that too, and I do. _More... _

The belt buckle clinks in my hands. I look into his eyes and the zipper finds our ears. He sighs when my hand dips. I pull.

"Fuck," a hiss against my lips, real and lax. I inhale it and consume it. Staggered breathing, feeling him. Hard. Ready. I pull him over me.

_More_ turns to wrapped legs around his waist, his half exposed bottom. Hardness between my folds rubbing. _More_ finds me wanting. Moving hips and wet. Sweet and willing. Teasing. But just feeling. I'll take it. I take whatever he gives. _Anything. _His bottom pressing and moving. His pants slip under my legs. I push them down further with toes. Off. Bare and warm. _So good. _For me.

He looks in my eyes full of want and nothing I'd ever seen. I caress it. Eyes, lips, brows. Memorizing it. His hands skim my sides, down to my inner thighs. A shiver. Willingly, I let him..._anything he wants_, as he hooks his palms under my knees to spread me wider. For him.

"Please..." I plead, writhing against his shaft, coating. I find his bottom, pulling him closer. Desperate. Nails, digging into his skin at the small of his back. He tortures me. His lips tug to a corner slightly. He watches me squirm and beg. He thrusts. I whimper.

My teeth find my lip. Frustration. Exasperation. I can't take it anymore.

I reach between us and grab his cock. Throbbing. Tight hold. A stroke to pull him closer, but he bucks. I lift my hips to reach...to slip onto him. My thighs shifting higher above his hips. _Anything. _But he tantalizes. Selfish. His warm breath quickens with every move of his hips, thrusting in my insistent hand. He takes advantage of what _he needs_. His tip at my entrance, touching, over and over. Nothing more.

His neck is close. I bury my face in it, pleading. His scent heavy with sweat. And there...I see it. The mark of teeth I once left on his neck. Faint. Hidden in ink. Something in me sparks. Feral. _I could care less._ I grab his shoulders and bite down to make him surrender. _Anything. _His breathing stutters. His neck tilts for better access. He loves it. I bite harder. His cock's tip slips in. I writhe. And just like that it's gone again. Anger. "_Please_, I need...urgh!" I cry out. He grunts.

He pushes into me. No warning. _Euphoric._

Time stops, and breathing, and everything in between. My gaze finds the dark treetops above. Tense and quivering all over. Lids fluttering. He nuzzles my neck. A bite too.

I feel so much. _Everything. _Thick and heat. All of him. We sigh. Contentment of joining in the most complete way. Like he was meant to be here. Over me and around me and above me. _In me._

He moves. I gasp...and I meet him too.

I sink, deeper and melt beneath him. Frenzied sounds of thrusts building. Slips of heated skin. He moans. The sound piercing straight to where we meet and I want to hear him like this for a lifetime. All abandon, crumbles away.

His thumb skims my neck, where he was once. A kiss. A contrast to anger and desperation. An apology. I take it. Without hesitation. I hug him close. The crook of his arms slip under my knees and pulls me closer. His thighs against the backs of mine. Everything shifts. Moans disappear through the lips of the other. Pulling. Meeting. Kissing anything I can reach on his heated face. His palm under my bottom lifting...deeper.

He pants with every one of his thrusts. Under my ear, my neck, throat. Hot. His sounds tameless. Raw. His curious hands touching anything they find. My sides, my hips, my hands. His fingers lock in mine. I look at them. _At us._

He looks just as I wanted him over me. Moving. His shoulders and arms tensing and releasing. I touch them. Fascinated. Running my palm over his scars, spreading to his chest. Glowing in oranges and yellows with the light of the fire. His flushed face, glistening, warming with every slide of my hips. "Beautiful," it slips my lips. A whisper by his ear. He sighs. Pulling me closer, his fingers in my hair. His eyes open and look in mine. A shake of his head with knitted brows. Our foreheads touch. He kisses me again.

No words.

He quickens his pace. Our rhythm finds me tightening as his trail of hair and skin rubs just where I need. My back arches. His arm dips underneath, catching me—pulling my hips onto his lap. I'm panting with him. Crazed.

Only my shoulders and head touch fur. My fingers grip there above my head. _Gone. So much and too much. _I thrash and find leverage, riding. The slick sounds of slips between us, in and out, feeling every inch of him. I let him pull me and we're flush. No space between to give. Nothing I'd rather want. He grunts, snaking a palm from my sex to my torso. A breast. Pulling a dark peak..._hard_. I whimper. My knees fall wider with a thrust.

He holds me still. Hands around the front of my thighs and he doesn't let me move. I look up at him kneeling above me. Disheveled. Lovely. Defeat when I try to move and he won't let me. Immobile. I dig my nails on his bent knees beneath me. Needing. Desperate. But then I feel. He twists his hips and finds me deeper.

I gasp. Groans. He moves hastily into me. Feeling, taking, absorbing all he gives. Relentless. _Ruthless_. Making my cries slip from my throat. Uncontrollably. Again and again.

Nothing exists for a moment. Mute, darkness behind my eye lids. It's just feeling and his thumb pressing firmly on sensitive skin where he plunges. I tense.

"Argh!" Release, like a thousand pulses. Stronger than I've ever felt in my life. Weightless as wings that leaves my nervous heart. No more. Rush of prickles everywhere. _Everywhere. _Delicious. Pulsing against him and around him, still filling me.

He shifts. Feather-like in his arms. His body flush to mine. I lavish in the feel and weight of him, wrapping my arms around his waist. His rhythm erratic and I hear and feel him falling too. I meet his every give and every take, helping him. _And God, so good..._when he spreads me, spills in me. Hot and deep. His strained grunts of release. My thighs tremble. It's just me and just him when exhausted lips rests against my chest.

We stay like this until his hand finds my nape, the other around my waist. He rolls on his back and takes me with him, over him as we fill our lungs. Twined and connected still, he kisses me. Hard. I can't get enough of him. Mouths clumsy, rough and wanting. My heart calms. His does too under my palm. I don't want this moment to end.

Kisses turn soft all over my face. I take it all in. The lashes, the jaw and full lips I've wanted to touch so badly. I run my hands through his damp forehead. I love his hair. His lids heavy, drowsy, looking up at me. A kiss on his forehead, sweetly, lingering. I don't want to let go. I squeeze around his neck. We lay content, feeling him soften.

His lush hands drift down my sides, finding my hips. He lifts me off him with a hiss. He pulls away long enough to find the discarded fabric. Useful again. I sigh, squirming above him. He cleans himself and me, gentle fingers on sensitive skin. He watches me flush, fighting a grin. A ghostly grin he fails to fight pulls at his lips. I trace it with a fingertip. Marveling. Something I've never seen him wear without disdain. Sincerely. _He wants me._

The sky can fall and I will not move. He knows this too. So, he pulls on fur over my back and covers us. He holds me close with fingers twined over his inked heart. Lips on my neck and hair and I stare at our hands with heavy lids.

I have him._ All of him._ He can have me too. And there's nothing undoing it now.

—•—••—•

My eyes unstick. Sun and breeze. I sigh. The warm body I look for with my stretched hand isn't there. Bear fur is everywhere and shielding reality from a dream. _Please let it be real..._

I look up and reality is hanging off two twigs of branches drying. My panties. They swivel with the wind. Softly. Content. Alone. Clean. Just waiting for me. A grin is in order. Blushing follows. _Edward._ A shake of my head. I cover my face with brown fur and smile like a teen with giddiness. It smells like him. _Oh God...him. _Images and the face I memorized. _He and I._

But he's not here with me. Giddiness fades and just worry sets in. _Where is he? _Reality intrudes and it hurts. Makes you feel foolish. What if something happened? I sit up. Left, right. I move to get up. I stop. Still naked _and where are my clothes?_

I spot them. Also drying. Fur trails behind me and I use it to cover myself while I juggle changing. I smile because he's already seen it all. But no less, I blush. _Him. _I can hardly believe it.

My chest is bruised. Another reality that hurts. Shiver runs through me. Dying in his arms. He must have been terrified. Guilty and gratefulness. I need to see him. My insides curl.

I walk around a bend and there he is. Far on a hill. His chest bare peaking through his opened shirt. Waves of prickles. Flush. I walk up behind him and he turns from starring at something intently. He's back. His eyes are the old Edward. The one that yells orders and throws knives at me. I lost him. My heart can't take more of this.

"What is it?" His eyes never failing. I sink in them. Right then, sounds of a helicopter inches closer. _They're coming to take me back._ Back to hell. I look back in his eyes and they don't change. They don't come back to me. _Betrayal _screams in my ears. I take a step back. Away from the one I do not want to know anymore.

I blink.

He doesn't let me. Eyes that are honest and calm are not like the vice grip he holds my chin in. I gasp. It almost hurts. He pulls me closer with the strength. Inches. His lips.

"Do you want to see Charlie?"

_What? _Hope soars. I blink. The helicopter is approaching, closer and I strain to hear his voice over the metal propellers. My hair whipping between us. I cower. I read his lips that were mine for a single night. And nothing more. "Yes."

"Then run."

—•••—•—•

* * *

**A/N: A lil, bitty, witty review for my bloody tears? Pls? No? I'd never beg like this like now. Let me know if all the waiting was worth it. They deserved it. I'll be here in my orange chair and my little pillow, vulnerable and waiting. I see you adding. THANKS! **

**Also****, ps. I'm going to Europe in April. I'm hoping to get a chap in but just in case, I'm letting you know now. I have A LOT of RL work too before then. :-/ Please forgive me in advance. Thanks. ILY all.**


	18. Chapter 17: Running

**A/N: Hello. :-) I'm baaaccck. heh. Europe was great but exhausting. Went to Venice, Florence, Paris. So much walking in the tour I got blisters found myself crying under the leaning tower of pisa. El oh el. Looser am I. I wanted to cut my feet off and stick it in my freezer with all the chicken. NOT a vacation for sure. That is all... Good shit ahead. GO READ. :-)**

**Beta Beige, you're made of amazing sprinkles on a cupcake.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — _Ajustatelo, papa!_**

—•—•—•

_**Sound: The Prodigy - Their Law. **(Srsly, for the first time, I BEG you to listen while reading. You won't regret it!)** To Vantastic, *bows* ;-) this one's for you.**_

—•—•

**Chapter 17 - Running**

I know this moment. Everything slows. I can't hear anything around me much less the metal bird flying above treetops. Propellers aren't loud enough, the breeze whirling my hair around my face isn't distracting enough. Mute. I read his lips. Moving. Stern. Telling me to run. But my feet can't move. Even with the adrenaline flowing through me, I'm frozen. Looking at his eyes, mouth.

He gives me freedom and I just stand here. My subconscious tells me, _not without him._

He pushes me. "Go." I stagger back. But his hand doesn't loosen on my face. How can I run when he doesn't let go? And I don't want him to let go. My hands hold on to his fist. But I can't feel anything but the slow motion. I plead with eyes that tell him to come with me. A squeeze of his hand.

"Run, now," he orders. "North. Follow that path to a road." His voice soft, close to my face. His eyes like the man I gave everything to last night. There's two of him. But this is _my_ Edward. I claimed him for me. It's him again. So, how can _he _tell me to go. Now...of all moments.

But he does. Even if his thumb caresses my cheek for an instant, he let's go. My heart sinks. And there's nothing left. No spark through a touch, nothing left but running. His eyes tell me so, they order for me to listen.

So I do. I run.

One leg after the other, my arms moving. Leaves and branches slap against my legs and I push some away with my arms. So far, I've never ran this much. But it's for freedom. It weighs less than running for your life. It's hope.

My middle burns. My lungs with it. My legs light and moving in a desperate attempt to fight. To find escape. My mind hijacks my body like a shell and it moves. His fingers leaving me with a burn of its own. They linger.

But I'm too light. The void of _everything_ missing from my shoulders, from around me, is apparent. I have nothing but the clothes on my back and will to accompany me. Will that is being rapidly overshadowed by fear with every step I take away from him. This is it.

I skid to a stop. I crouch with a gasp. Needles speed over my head. They stiffly stick to bark behind me. Like an animal. They chase me like an animal needing to be tamed. Tranquilizers.

The demon bird shifts in front of me. I run into clearing of more grass and a cliff. They see me. It hovers over a rushing river below. Close. I run to hide behind the thick bark. I see a woman in the cockpit navigating—Rosalie. Emmett crouches in dark clothing just beyond the open metal doors he once threw me from. A devious grin. The scar on his face is the same as I remember. The gleam in his tantalizing smile brighter then the reflection off the silver gun in his hand. A beautiful sunny day for such a nightmare. He waits. He's ready to jump out and run after me. I cower.

I find Edward staring at me from afar still standing where I left him. So far. His bare chest heaving, watching my failing attempt. _I can't. Not without him. _He turns fully to face me. His tense stance and shoulders shows his worry. And the single step he takes is enough. My resolve.

I run back.

His eyes widen. He looks at the bird behind me and back at me—at tears already finding their way to my lids. He grows blurry in my vision. But I see him. _God, I see him. _He's exactly where I want to be.

His brows furrow shaking his head slightly, like he doesn't want me to come. But his arms open anyway. They contradict with what his eyes say. They wait for me to shuffle through greens to come back to him.

I crash into his arms. Helpless. "Not without you," I say to his neck. My arms curl around him.

"You wanted this..."

"Please. Not without you. I can't alone...please," desperate. A sob stuck in my throat. My balled fists pull at the collar of his shirt. He sighs.

The bird thumps far away. Finding its prey over treetops again. Every fleeting movement my blood runs cold. Just the thought of going back..._to hell_. I hold him tighter against me.

His fingers slip in my hair, tugging my head back. He looks down into my eyes. "I won't," he murmurs. Crushing hope. My chest constricts at that. A tear slips. I don't want to leave now. The hope and certainty of finding a way out of here is not appealing anymore. It has become different here where we stand. It's ours. I don't want him to be the same. Everything has changed, yet nothing has.

"This is what you want. It's not what I want. You want to leave, then go. But I won't help you with this." He shakes his head slightly, "If I even see him..." Anger shows, just at the mention of Charlie. I hold a breath at his clear threat. I hate it.

"Leave now or nothing," his words final. Another tear slips but not of defeat, of anger. He disagrees with me wanting to see my own father, yet he let's me leave. But that's just it...he lets me_. _It's so like him to _allow _me anything. My teeth grind with indecision. He's the same. The one who orders me around and gives me only what he wants to give. Like the stranger I once knew.

My fingers curl around his shirt roughly. "Please." My face buried in it.

"Go, or I'll change my mind," he pushes me away. His large hand on my chest. I wipe a tear away angrily and grab his shirt again. He pushes me, hard. His neck growing red, livid. And I fall harder into desperation. I grab him again and nothing. A push. He steps back, holding out a hand for me to stop. I push it away but I don't get any closer.

I feel foolish. I hate myself when I whimper, sniffling. Hurt. A frustrated growl from my lips. I dodge away from his hand, but he catches my shoulder in it. He keeps me arms length. I tug roughly in a silent war. Knuckles going white with effort. My foot drags on leaves below. But he's effortless, immobile. I can't stir him. I fight him because it's all I know when its with him. We never agree with anything.

But I win. He gives up. I rush into his chest, like a stupid child seeking comfort, wrapping my arms around his waist. I can't seem to care. _Not without him. _He doesn't look down at me. His arms at his sides. His face blank. Defeat.

"I need you," I whisper, looking up at him. Opposite words to yesterday's conflict. I don't know what else to say. I do need him. I'd be long gone and dust by now without him. His eyes close. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose.

I watch the muscles of his jaw tense. He looks up. Alarmed. The metal bird hovers closer. We don't have time. But I don't care where the predators are. All I care about is him. Knowing I won't find my way out of here. I stare at his indecisive gaze knowing he's the only one who can help me.

"Please," I plead. He looks at me.

He sighs, finally. He runs his fingers through his hair, cursing under his breath. He looks pissed, disheveled and lovely. Yet, nudging me off him is anything but. I nip at my lip. He moves to button his shirt. A surge of hope flows through me. With hurried fingers, I help him. He hastily buttons the bottom and I the top. I plant a kiss on his chest before buttoning the last. Hoping it'll stir his decision more. _Shameless. _I look up at his face and wait. He looks at me, holding his breath at the gesture.

This feels like forever. Anxiety builds when Emmett yells for me, taunting. I start. His laugh traveling to where we stand. He's on ground now. My nerves spike. I look back at Edward with pleading eyes.

"Quick," Edward grabs my hand. My heart pounds with mixed relief and dread of what will come next.

But I have his hand in mine. _I have him._

—•—••—•

"Shh," against my cheek. His lips, pressed over gritted teeth. Long, strong fingers cover my mouth. Fierce but familiar. They moved from holding my hand to keeping me quiet. My panting is too loud from running. He's fine. I'm a mess. My fingertips touch his nail beds and knuckles, his smooth skin. I try so hard. Just for him.

I assure him with a fist gripping his shirt at his waist. I face him, tucked under his chin. We hide. We wait.

We lost Emmett by dodging fallen trees, running and hiding behind large boulders. But he's so close again. Edward knows him. He knows his every move and where he'll go. What he thinks. But even so, no trust. His other fingers shift around ivory's tusk against my back. He pulled it out from its strap around his broad shoulders, under his shirt. Like the one Charlie wore when he'd come home from a shift. It was discarded on the kitchen counter by the closet. Black leather, worn. But this one is shiny, new, carved with vines like his skin. They look hand made, a sharp knife. I see a glimpse of it through an opening of his collared wool shirt. The softness confirming against my cheek. I focus on that. His slight chest hair and skin caving over a strong collar bone. His neck. I stare because I don't want to look at anything beyond what he sees over my head.

This feels too familiar. Like when I was alone. My eyes close. Relief. Because the hand that tightens over my lips is helping me. It tells me what to do. It pulls at my hand to run. It tells me to stop. And I do. Just for him.

Emmett laughs. His deep voice vibrating through wind, bark, my skin. This is a game to him. I remember Edwards eyes when he told me to hurry. To stop tripping over my feet. To look. To focus. Because this is his game. He seeks, he finds. It's his strongest skill.

He's a mere step away. A branch or twig under our feet and we're both done. Over. I inhale when Edward shifts us around the perimeter of the bark, taking me with him. Slowly. Just out of view of his passing form. He stops just by us. I see his side, the dark jacket sleeve, his boot. They're leather and black and shiny, not like Edward's. A small blade twirls in his hand. Skillfully flipping between his fingers. He takes a step away and I swallow relief. We're safe.

I move my lips away from his warm palm to look up. Waiting for him to say the word to move. Anything. But his eyes are closed. Listening. His head tilted just slightly. My brows furrow. My eyes shift to his hands moving to cup my head. I don't understand. I want to tell him to hurry and run, to pull me again. But he doesn't. He listens and his thumbs brush my temples. The side of Ivory presses to my ear, still in his grip. She doesn't scare me anymore. I don't even flinch. What stirs confusion is his steady hands and why.

Silence is deafening. I realize then I don't hear shiny boots moving farther away. My head in his hands lean to my right to peak around his shoulder, around the tree. Slowly.

I regret.

My eyes squeeze shut in an instant. The small blade is airborne...and it's pointing straight between my eyes. I feel the swift cut of air by my ear. Hair splitting, moving. It doesn't touch me because Edward doesn't let it. I gasp. His hands dodge my head away. His eyes still closed.

I'm a puppet. The momentum of moving me makes him swing me the other way. My eyes widen when they open and see another blade. Swift air by my other ear. He pulls me away again. I hear the blades stick to bark behind me. I stand centered and still, looking up at eyes that are still closed. Heaving. Terrified. _He found us. _But Edward is unfazed. He smirks. And I stare at the curve by his mouth curling.

I blink. I don't know how my knees bend in a crouch. Edward pulls his back off the bark. He's over me. _Thump. _I scream. Another blade replaces our heads against the tree.

So many things happen I can't find my bearings. My feet leave the ground for just an instant. I leap. I hold my breath but its useless. My back connects with bark. My lungs empty with the blow. I drop. Someone throws me to the side but I can't tell who's who. They're fighting.

I try to breathe but the scene in front of me is frightening. Emmett's teeth gleam white with a snarl and then it disappears behind a fist. I sit up but its no use in me interfering. One of them could kill me. Helpless. I watch in horror.

This is not an armature fight in a bar. Not a drunken scuffle out in a street. This is two men of equal strength and ability to use every limb and leap and dodge anticipated blows with graceful movements. They look lethal and angry. I start. Edward curls a stray blade under Emmett's throat. His back bangs on bark.

"This was not my fucking orders," he snarls close to Emmett's face.

"Your orders?" he laughs. That only sets them off again. Emmett grabs Edwards belt with one hand and the other his collar. Edward flies. Like mine, his lungs empty with the blow. I yelp seeing his back arch against the roundness of a tree. But nothing. His leg kicks out and knocks Emmett's legs from under him. Edward stands while Emmett is on the ground for a moment before maneuvering a flip of his body. They're standing without effort in seconds. Bulged biceps and strained necks and plump veins tense as they struggle again. Knives twirl and flip, strike but none cuts skin.

I shuffle to my feet, pressing myself to a tree. Eyes widen, I side step everywhere they go. My palm finds my mouth with a gasp. I watch as Edward suddenly charges up a thick bark. His body flips over Emmett's head, landing behind him. Ivory appears in his palm pointing straight on to Emmett's temple. His neck retrained back with Edward's forearm. He's got him.

He holds him massive body still with a strength he has never used on me.

"You listened to him? You left her here and they found her." Edward shouts.

Emmett's angry eyes find mine. His cheeks quivering. The long pause is tense. "She asked for it," he smirks, "Right, Swan?" The vein on his forehead thickens and he pushes Edward away. Edward quickly moves in front of me.

I can't look away. His fingers are proof to his words as they find the bruised skin where the gunshot almost pierced. But his eyes shift...down to my hand holding Edward's around my hip. His eyes narrow to a slit.

I flush, letting go. My eyes shift to Edward's shoulder where they stay and cower. My skin crawls and red seeps over my cheeks.

"Go, I'll take her back myself. The least you could do."

"Uh, uh," Emmett shakes his head slowly when I look up, "You've been re-assigned and ordered back. Strict orders."

"His orders, and look where we ended up. A fucking magnet for black coats," Edward's voice stern and final, "We were never here. You never found us."

"You're in too deep."

"He'll kill her." My skin prickles at his words. I look up at his face. Blank.

"If he does, what's it to you?" Emmett's smirk deepens as his eyes flicker to his hand still around me. Edward's silence stretches. "Step aside, Masen." He doesn't. Emmett's glare looses all humor.

I grip Edward's wool shirt behind him. A silent plea. But he won't move. _Would he? _

Moot hope. Silence is interrupted. I grunt from the sudden pain. My hair is pulled back and I'm staring at treetops. I catch a glimpse of Edward's wide eyes when he looks back at me. Cool metal grazes my neck.

"Rose!" Edward.

My feet drag on dead leaves. I only hear Emmett charging at Edward and their bodies colliding. I kick. My nails find skin and hair and a smooth face. But I'm nothing compared to her strength. She's solid. Tall. Anger builds in me with every pull of my hair. My teeth grind. I kick at her chins and pull at her long locks. Visions of school ground fights with mean girls flashes through my mind. But she's anything but. She's lethal.

She bends a leg and I take the chance. Anything. I step behind her ankle and kick, sending us both to the ground. The blade at my neck cuts a small slit of my skin. _Bitch._ My elbow finds her middle. Like stone. She doesn't flinch. _Fuck. _

I scramble to my knees. She kicks my lower back. My hands brake my fall. Eyes squeeze shut with the searing pain through my kidney.

"Fuck, Rose, you'll kill her!" A growl above me sends my lids fluttering.

Emmett's arm is around Edward's neck holding him down on the ground. His knee on his back. He waits for Rosalie to finish me. But Edward is desperately looking into my eyes and they cut to the ground in front of me. I look. A blade. With wide eyes I crawl as fast as I can to reach it. My index finger touches the handle. I grunt.

Rosalie pulls me away by my ankle. I turn on my back and kick her chest with all my strength. She staggers back and onto the ground. She's already standing before I look away. I crawl back to the blade.

"Move, Bella!" Edward growls. I look up. His eyes blazing my way. I wince when Emmett's fist connects with the side of his abdomen for escaping his hold.

When I look back, Rosalie is holding a shiny metal syringe. She bends... _slash. _I blink.

Red.

Blood seeps through the white cotton of her shirt, spreading like virus. My mouth gapes. _I did that?_ Adrenaline drove my hand to act without thought. I scramble to my feet as her hand and wide eyes find her middle.

"Run." Edward orders. He's pinned against a tree. Emmett watches Rosalie with knitted brows.

And I do. But my every limb slows knowing I'm leaving him behind. I look back and Rosalie is standing. _Shit._ She's relentless. I find Edward's darkened eyes staring back at me. He goes red with fury when I don't move. His free hand twitches slightly against Emmett's side. But I see it.

The red stained blade in my hand grows heavy with every step Rosalie takes.

I flick it. I throw back my arm and it flies right into his extended palm. My fists clenches with relief.

A storm of fists and arms and grunts. I watch and its done. The blade in Edward's hand cuts through Emmett's thigh and Rosalie's fresh wound, a second time. Not enough to kill them. He would if he wanted.

In seconds, I'm reaching my hand out for him to take. He runs and he does and it never felt so exhilarating.

—•—–•—•

I'm panting so hard I'm whimpering loudly. Even his occasional nudge at small of my back isn't comforting enough. He pushes me when my strides get too staggered, or slow. He's fine, even with the backpack and gun he grabbed before we ran. We run because these men were made to kill. A bleeding wound is never defeat. Edward just slowed them down enough to get a head start.

Emmett and Rosalie are catching up.

My head is nudged down to a crouch. He holds me still by my neck with a strong hand. Fine needles fly by sticking on bark. They aim for both of us now. But I trust. With a hand hooked under my arm as indication, I move again. I do as he says. I don't look back. "Good girl," he murmurs behind me. Prickles and a surge of strength flows through me.

_Accept it._ _Accept the pain. _My legs and lungs protest. I run as fast and as hard as I can. Just for him.

Hours it seems. I'm in a trance. So focused I don't notice the ground changes to gravel and pebbles under my feet. He pulls so hard at my collar I nearly choke. "This way," he orders. I turn and keep running. A road.

Nothing but dark pavement with painted lines stretching towards a hazy horizon. Deserted. The sun beams in our eyes as glistening sweat streaks our faces. We'll never find a car to hitchhike or someone to help. My hope plummets but he keeps running. Like he sees something I don't. My muscles grow heavier as I loose my focus. We don't get a break.

Panic. I look back. Emmett appears out of the woods. He looks up behind him and I finally hear the thumps of the helicopter.

I yell for Edward. He looks and grabs my hand. The helicopter appears far behind us. We have nowhere to go. I look up at him and he's calm but for his flared nostrils. He stops. I slam into his side. I watch him pull Ivory out of his belt.

Far in the horizon a speck is coming in fast. I squint. My grip tightens around his backpack and shirt. I see Emmett and Rosalie getting closer. She hovers low and he jumps into the open door.

_What do we do?_ I look up at him. Nothing. His focus is on Ivory pointing at a nearing black motorcycle. I shift my gaze back to his face. _He'll shoot. _His finger moves to the trigger and I know he'll pull.

"No! Please...just let him go!" I desperately shake his arm away. This is not worth an innocent life. I stare at his determined eyes, his tightened jaw, waiting. He'll do it. He'll kill anything that crosses his path. The motorcycle speeds closer and it slows. The rider sees commotion. His face hidden behind a dark helmet.

Without a second thought I move. I stagger in front of his clear shot. "Edward!" I scream.

He stops. His eyes shift to mine. Their darkened haze slowly clears. They shift to Ivory pointing at my face. The helicopter thumps close behind us. The motorcycle closer still. But we stand here in silence as my hair whirls with the thrashing wind. I try to find _my _Edward inside the killer I'm staring at. "No more," I mutter, "Please."

Finally, after a stretched moment, he lets go. He shifts the gun away from me. My breath hitches with relief. "Another way, alright?" I plead with a nod. The rumbling engine of the bike is closely making its way by us. But I can't take my eyes away from him. _My Edward. _

He shifts the piece to his other hand and his jaw flexes angrily. He rolls his eyes away from mine. The bag comes off his back. I gasp. He pushes by me. He runs.

I watch, horrified, as he sprints at full speed towards the moving vehicle. His free hand juts out, cupping the riders throat with a hook. The man flies back and off the bike, landing on his back. Edward is over him on a bent knee. His hand still in place. He let's go, leaving him immobile and groaning.

"I need to borrow your bike, if you don't mind," Edward says over his limp form. He removes his helmet. "This too, thanks." The dark haired man rolls on the ground catching his breath.

"Are you fucking insane?"

"Put this on," Edward orders. He shoves the helmet into my chest and jogs to the bike. He rights it from it's side and hops on gracefully. Like he's done it a thousand times. "Get on," he calls.

I look back at the man and spot a cellphone on the ground. I grab it. I place it on his chest hesitantly with a whispered apology. Maybe he'll call for help. Seeing a new face, a civilian, for the first time in months feels foreign. I linger over his handsome young face...guilt.

"Bella, move!" Edward shouts. I start. I run back, juggling the helmet over my head. I don't even know how to put it on.

"Jesus, you didn't have to hurt him!" I shout around the plastic. My fingers fumbling.

"I didn't kill him, alright?" he growls with a death glare. He pulls me by my sleeve roughly, "Now, get on the fucking bike."

I cower then. Showers of needles are aimed at us from the metal bird above. Edward turns his body and lifts me by my waist. I'm jostled as he slams me down behind him. My thighs nestled around him. He secures my arms around his chest hurriedly.

Tires screech. I yelp behind the mask at the pull. I almost loose my seat from under me. I can hardly hear the engine roaring with the bird speeding behind us. Fear. Everything is dark behind the helmet, but I see Edward's hair and shirt billowing through the wind. My breathing grows staggered with the speed.

He looks just as he should sitting here, pulling on the throttle with every push of the engine. Never in my life have I rode in one of these. Even with Jake's insistence. But the feel of Edward's hand finding both of mine, brings me back to the moment. This isn't a joy ride. I hold on tighter. Terrified.

I look to my side and I find Emmett's eyes. His menacing glare. The bird hovers low beside us. He lifts his arm, the gun gleams brightly. I cower, waiting for all this effort to be put to an end.

Edward's hand tightens around my fingers almost painfully. A warning to hold on. He lets go and my stomach plummets with the added speed. Our knees nearly touch the ground with a sharp turn. My eyes squeeze shut. My body tries to find the center in gravity. I hold back a scream.

Cars and traffic speed passed us. With wide eyes I look around me. Chicago. Civilization runs its routine. A city buzzing on a work day, oblivious to the surreal world I come from. I partly notice how much I've missed it. But horns and tires screech away from Edward's maneuver. And I know...I'm not from here anymore. I belong where my arms grip desperately around a man who took me away from this. Just so I'd live. We come to interrupt a normal windy day.

People on the side of roads look up, some alarmed behind windshields in cars. They stare at the relentless bird hovering above. At us. Their eyes wide.

I gasp. He jumps a sidewalk and cuts through a gore of incoming traffic on a jammed road. I look over his shoulder at pedestrians jumping out of the way, screaming. Some are thrown over food stands and sidewalks. Onlookers come out of shops and cafés to catch a glimpse of the commotion. I want to yell at them to get back. But the helicopter is a cacophony down what used to be a quiet town.

I look up at Emmett shouting orders to Rosalie. She flies over cars so low the leg skims the roof of a couple. Metal crushes. Sparks fly. The cars swerve and crash onto others. I gape. They're above us now. Emmett climbs down onto a metal bar. He swings his body upside down hooking a leg. I scream. His hands inches to my hair shuffling behind me.

"Hold on!" Edward shouts above the deafening noise. The motorcycle leaps. Airborne. I can't breathe.

He sends us over a dumpster and a café table. Glasses shatter. Screams. A woman leaps out of the way. I grip his chest, mere inches from falling off. We're jostled off the side walk. I look over his shoulder at incoming traffic. _Shit._

Horns, swerving cars, brakes screeching...deafening. Within inches from a bumper, he zips between a line of cars. The handle under his grip clips a side mirror. I cower. It flies over our heads. My thighs tighten around his fearing I'll collide in the narrow space. My nails dig into his chest. _Oh God... _He doesn't stop.

Needles from above fly passed us. They shatter windshields, doors, sticking on tires. My stomach churns knowing people were probably pricked. Killed, even. A gap opens between cars. Edward swerves that way. Another gap. He dives through every curve seamlessly to the right side of the rode. Emmett's aim falters, time and time again.

I gasp. My eyes widen at the definite plan formulating in his mind. It takes the form of a ramp. I can see it and it scares the _shit _out of me. _He wouldn't dare. _I shout his name. Nothing.

New cars are tied to a truck as they are being shipped. The tail end of the truck low to the ground and conveniently empty. The large vehicle speeds in front of us. The road that was left behind has turned into narrowing highway lanes. We won't fit by it.

I watch, horrified, as his bottom lifts off his seat for leverage. His hand finds mine for an instant. A fierce squeeze. And I know. My fists clench into balls around him. He jumps. The bike lifts and onto the ramp with a loud rattle.

He speeds up and stops. I wonder where we go now. The bird thumps far, trying to find us. But I hear it. Above me I see Edward glance to our side. I follow his eyes to our left and...

_Holy fuck._

An open express lane below calls to him as an invitation. I want to pound my fists around him so he'll wake the fuck up. Visions of action movies flash through my mind. And this isn't anything like it. This is real, with real people looking on from inside their cars. Terrified.

He backs the bike up a few feet. I catch a glimpse of his face looking back. Darkened furrowed eyes and flexed jaw. I fear this side of him. This is where I draw the line. He's not even human. Yet, I stare in awe. I subconsciously absorb first hand what the Red Ribbon killer does and has always done.

I'm pulled back as he rams the throttle up the steep slope. We fly off the ramp in a break of a second. My stomach plummets with the weight of gravity. The landing short and smooth. A fucking walk in the park for him. I'm a mess. I slump against him, defeated. I heave a heavy sigh of relief, curving an arm over his chest to his shoulder. My arms and legs heavy and sore from holding on.

We ride in open space and my nerves settle a bit. We pass under bridges on highways above us. Like this, the bird can't get closer. I chance a look up.

We find an exit and ride to the middle of a jammed intersection. A bridge. Traffic speeds down below as well. The helicopter flies higher to turn at our direction when they spot us again. I finally breathe when we halt to a screeching stop. Edward shoots out his left boot to hold the bike upright. Smoke rises behind me as he turns the bike the other direction. The back wheel burning the pavement as it runs in place.

He waits.

I look up at him. Anxiety. _What is he doing? _My heart pounds in my ears and chest. I'm sure he feels it against his back.

One minute passes. I squeeze the only buttons in his shirt left clasped from the wind. His bare chest heated with adrenaline underneath. It rises and falls with every deep breath. He doesn't move. Smoke rises behind me from the skidding wheel, cloaking over us. It spreads like an intimidating ghost. The wheel swerves under me slowly, from side to side—waiting for his command. Nothing.

I look around me and people are watching. Bewilderment and awe over their faces. At Edward. His marked skin, sharp menacing face—focused. Not nearly a care in the world. But me...I cower deeper behind his shoulder blades, grateful for the tinted helmet. Red flushes my neck.

A girl looks on from a parted window in the backseat of a car. Her hair and eyes dark like mine. She stares at me. Curiosity in her hands that press onto glass. She doesn't know I wish a thousand times I was in her shoes. I have to look away before the lump in my throat turns to pins behind watery lids.

Two minutes pass when it feels like eternity. I look up and we're face to face with the metal bird coming close. It speeds passed traffic below the bridge, disappearing into a black tunnel. It aims straight to where we sit above it. And I know...

"Edward," I plead. He doesn't hear me. My nerves spike. My head light. My every limb grows numb. And just when my hands begin to tremble, I feel his warm palm. His long digits wrap around mine with a tight squeeze. He repositions my arms. I hold on to my own wrists in a lock still around him. His thumb rubs there softly. An advance apology.

_Oh God...it can't be. He wouldn't. _But he would. And he will.

I want to jump off the motorcycle and run. I can't move for the life of me. I look up and the bird is growing speed. Closer. Everyone seems to freeze and wait for what the crazed man will do. Everyone including me. I hold him tighter. If he would tell me something. _Anything_.

His hand moves to my right knee as the other holds the throttle and brake still. He's preparing me. He adjusts my foot to stabilize it on a bar below. A nudge. He moves across his lap to my left leg and secures it too.

I'm panting. He feels it. His palm rubs over my thigh and squeezes. Not nearly comforting. I watch below as an Eighteen wheel truck makes its way towards the tunnel under us. The helicopter above the same. His hand moves from my knee to the vacant brake handle before him. White knuckles, forearms coiling and back flexing. His spine curves as he braces himself. I want to scream.

In as many times as I pictured my death, I never, in a million years, imagined this would be the end. _God, please..._

Three minutes. Edward let's go of the brake.

Screams. They come from pedestrians and drivers left behind. From an anxious wheel burning steam and set free from underneath me. But I can't. Gaping parted lips is all I can manage. The screams in me fail to arrive. The wind is knocked out of me. I just watch. My life and his...done. Right before my eyes.

Rosalie weaves the helicopter over us, mere feet from our path and the bridge. It turns to its side. It misses. The bird stalls and turns off its axis. Propellers spin behind us and closely over vehicles below.

But we fly. The black beast under us charges right off the bridge. Edward is practically standing around his seat. Airborne. Time slows. The engine's roar falls to a whisper. Silence in the midst of cutting through tense heavy wind. We free fall. But I don't wake up like in dreams as this.

My nails cut into my own skin. My thighs tense around his. Feet dig on the bar beneath as I lift off my seat along with him. All I can see over his billowing collar is the roof of the long truck. He aims. He charges. He pulls at the handles with strained muscles.

_BANG._

Metal. Brakes. Shrieks. Ear-splitting. I heave. My chest and head lifts with the effort. My body comes down with a blow. I slump against his broad back. My waist collapsing from around me and I'm a rag doll. I try with all the strength left in me to stay on. Pieces of metal fly off the motorcycle. Off the sides of the truck and onto lanes.

Velocity drives us dangerously close to the end of the top. Edward swerves. He shoots out a foot on the floor to stabilize. He grunts. The bike swings to its side. It faces the opposite way to a shrill stop. His arm stretches over my head, around my waist. He pulls. I'm lifted off my seat and tucked under his arm. He crouches with me in his arms onto the roof top. We slide with the speed to a stop.

Everything goes black.

I'm dead. I'm sure of it. My limbs are numb. My eyes tightly shut. But light comes. My lids brighten. I look. Eyes wide. He calls my name and lifts the helmet off. I see him. Dim lights from a darkened tunnel shadows over his face. His whirling hair against the passing wind.

Alive.

I let go. My head falls back. Panting. Tears spill off the sides of my temples. _Fucking alive. _

I breathe him in, deeply. The scent at his neck. He pulls me under his chin. His fingers in my hair. His chest rising and falling heavily. And just for a surreal moment, I feel him. _Alive and breathing._

The truck hits a bump. We're jostled a bit out of our revere. I pull back and slap him..._hard. _He blinks. Red rushing over skin. The sound sharp and deliberate_. _The feel of rage and something twisting comes over me. "Don't you _ever_ pull a fucking stunt like that again. Do you hear me?" I snarl at his wide eyes, "Ever."With a balled fist around his collar, I kiss him..._hard_.

We pull away with a soft pull of our lips. A moment too long. A heated stare. A brush of lips. His cheeks cave with a slight pucker. Blank. But I see it. The smirk forming at the corner of his lip. I skim it with mine and bury my face in his neck again.

He looks up. The tunnel stretches and weaves into other dark caves. "Can't promise you that, Swan," he says over my head. I look behind me. _Right. We're on a moving truck. _The odd perspective dizzies my hazy brain. I can hardly breathe when I look over the edge. _Jesus. Never in my life... _He grabs the helmet and brings it over my head. "Not just yet." He slips it on. The helmet flap open.

"We're gonna get in trouble. There has to be a law for this," I mutter finding my barrings. I sit up and swerve to one side. I gasp. He catches me.

"Silly Bella. We're beyond trouble." He drops the flap. Everything dims. He loves this. The thrill. The danger. I shake my head in disbelief. _Fucking psycho, just as I suspected._

He cautiously stands holding my hand. I'm next. We wind surf. I grab his shoulders to keep from swaying. _Don't look down...don't look down. _I suck in a breath when he pulls away. He rights the bike and swings his leg over it. His fingers pushing fancy complicated buttons on the dash to get it started. I hold on to his arm and a handle to keep from falling.

I can't fight the unexpected flush over me at the sight of him. Here, inappropriately, stuck on top of a moving vehicle—I stare. So close. His disheveled half buttoned wool shirt. Glistening skin at his neck and abs peaking through. Exasperated from the current event. He looks the part. A killer on a mission. I swallow thickly. _I must look like a lunatic on the run. _I wonder, briefly, how my life made such a turn.

Before I blink twice I'm sitting behind him and the engine is roaring. I dread this. My insides churn. I look down at people peeking under windows and windshields to get a closer look. I ignore, focusing on the back of Edward's head.

My hands hurriedly find his waist. He shoots down the roof to the front of the truck. He drops. I almost yelp. The hood caves slightly under the weight before he jumps onto gravel. The driver honks wildly. He shouts out the window, but we're gone. Finding every gap between cars until we're too far to hear his shouts.

I hold back a giggle at the commotion. _It is thrilling pissing people off. _

The light at the end of the tunnel slowly emerges. And I remember what we were running from. But the sounds of a metal bird is nonexistent. We lost them. I breathe. I lean forward onto his back and stare over his shoulder. The moment calm despite the speed he keeps up. At this moment, we're just two people enjoying a ride to onlookers. No one stares. I savor this with a squeeze around his front.

I squint.

Whirling lights under the sunlight. Red. Blue. White.

It was inevitable. My heart speeds like the wheels under me. Pounding. Ears. Pulse.

Edward throws a glance over his shoulder at me. His jaw flexes. _Switch. _His demeanor changes..._just like that_. The moment over when he reaches for Ivory from its strap. He taps the barrel on my hand. I understand. With a heavy heart, I reach and pull the cold metal. Cocking it with a click. I reach for the twin in his shirt, pull it out, and do the same. I keep this one. He slows significantly, giving us time. Time to take it all in and prepare. Plan. Think. But one thing I don't understand that rushes through my nerves undoubtedly...

Fear.

Charlie.

—•—••—•—••

* * *

**A/N: Was it worth it? :-) Did I do good? idk but this killer fucks with my brains, he's so hawt. lol. I totes sit at work with my tongue out picturing kissing him and even... ahem... making lemonade (more soon, i promise). Does he to you? Let me know with a review. haha.**

**I love you for adding. Thanks!**

**Remember, progress updates on my profile AND twitter. thanks again!**


	19. Chapter 18: Charlie

**A/N: Short and sweet cuz its 3am and my lappy is loosing battery, too lazy to get the cord. Lots of decisions writing this chap. Aiming and building for the near end (I'll tell you when). HARD writing and longest chap yet. Go read.**

**Beta Beige, you're made of apple pie martinis, like the one I had tonight. This ones **** specifically **for you, Vantastic. I heart you.  


**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — **_**Where is it?**_

—•—•—•

_**Sound: Lullatone - Leaves Falling. **_**Just enjoyed while writing, nothing specific.**

—•—•

**Chapter 18 - Charlie**

I remember the first time Charlie grounded me. I was out so late one summer night, the light posts lining the streets went on. Every kid knew that even before light posts brightened the dirty roads, our asses had to be home or we'd pay. I'd hang with Jake, Paul, Sam, Tyler, Leah (my closest friend) and a whole gang at the beach. We made an abandoned burnt car by the woods our fort. We didn't know the story behind why it was there. We didn't care. Our priority was to fling rocks the farthest or cliff dive off the roof. Our only concerns were who would get to ride shot gun while Jake or Sam drove us away from make believe cops. They were the robbers. Sam's small bulldog stood guard on the vacant back windshield growling to keep Leah and I, the giggling kidnapped dual, from escaping.

It was summer. It kept us busy. It was insanely fun. So fun, I lost track of time one night. I ran home. Every haste step I took scared the living shit out of me.

I was nervous to face Charlie.

My fingers shift and tighten on the white tusk of Ivory as I think back. We're getting closer. I'm in the moment now where I remember it feeling the same, yet monumentally different all at once. The nerves spiking through me are ten fold from what it felt like years ago. I'm afraid. I'm afraid what we will be confronted with, what lies ahead of us beyond this tunnel, what I'll see in Charlie's eyes.

Traffic builds and I tighten my arm around Edward. He slows to a stop behind a bumper. Silence. I'm guessing he's formulating a plan. I don't dare disturb him. Not that I would. I'm stuck in a trance of flickering lights over roof tops of cars ahead of us. I watch. This is me taking haste steps towards fear. Anticipation. Fearful of someone I've never thought I would fear like this—my father.

He's out there. I can feel it. A suspicious helicopter and a motorcycle chase does not go unnoticed in a busy city. They know. They're here. Waiting.

One thing I'm sure of as I look up at hazy jade eyes, lost in a mechanical brain, Edward would never allow to get himself caught. Not as long as he can help it. I hang on to that string of trust and hope. I wonder faintly how many times he's been confronted with this.

He looks at me. His eyes soften. They close as he takes a deep breath. His chest lifts and drops. His eyes open slowly, his jaw flexes against his shoulder. His lips finally part, "No matter what happens, do not leave my side. Do not climb off the bike until I say. When I tell you to run, do not, under any circumstance, look back. Is that understood?" I blink. A heavy swallow. A nod.

He settles my arms again around him and my stomach drops. That only means one thing. _Speed. _He settles my legs around him tightly again. I comply and let him. I won't protest this time.

"Hide the gun against your back," he orders guiding my occupied hand. I fumble with shaking hands doing so and lift my jacket over it. I can only imagine what the driver behind us is thinking. "Good girl," he mummers. Flush. He settles my arms back around him again. Rubs my nervous hands. It's done. He has it all planned.

The bike jolts. I hold a breath. We swerve between a line of cars. Horns honk and some move to the side conveniently giving Edward much needed space. He pulls harder at the throttle.

Instantly my eyes focus on the Blue and Red and White lights. They don't waste time. Police cars push their way through incoming traffic. The sirens loud in a confined space. Everyone in cars beside us look around to find the source of commotion. They don't know yet, its all for us.

A river of cars split down the middle. My nails dig on my skin. Edward takes the bite. He rams the throttle to full speed through the split like the red sea was parted just for him. We're in full view.

I hide behind his shoulder blades. I want to pretend I don't see police cars swerving out of our way. Cruisers collide with other cars. Shouts of men and screams of women from the loud metal screeching. Edward doesn't relent. His chest muscles contract under my arms as he tenses. I peek. One look over his shoulder and a gasp...

_No...no...no!_

He launches us on a hood and flies over to the roof of a cruiser. Cops spill out of the doors to get away from the crumbling roof. No other way out. They were blocking any possible way. Nowhere else to go but up.

_I will die...right here. _I squeeze my eyes shut for the inevitable bullets that will surely kill us and end this.

"Hold fire!" a man shouts. My skin prickles. _Dad. _I strain to look back but I can't. Suddenly, all chaos around me comes second to that deep familiar voice. It's been too long since I've seen his face. A pang of longing and familiarity. I want to run to him. But he's far behind us now.

Edward races off the cruiser and pushes the engine harder. I brace for the jostle with tense muscles. We crash onto pavement. Open road ahead of us. Everything has been conveniently closed off entering the tunnel. Screeching tires and they're chasing us.

_Where are we going?_

Edward takes a sharp right, just missing a row of detail cops holding traffic. Their handheld radios blaring as they look up with wide eyes. _Late_. I look back to a stampede of sirens, cruisers and men on foot chasing after us. Some drop to a knee holding a riffle to aim. They're immediately ordered to hold fire. My heart pounds in my chest.

Businesses, Bodegas and old apartment buildings speed by us. Neighborhood kids trickle across basketball courts and watch from wire fences. Women and children watching from run down apartment building windows. Onlookers run out to see the commotion. Edward dodges cars in an intersection. Cruisers ram into them just missing us. Metal crushing at full speed from behind us.

I'm afraid. This is becoming too much. Innocent drivers are being hit. I want to tell Edward to stop. To give me up. It's not worth it. I cave under his back. Panting. And just when I know this needs to stop, his hand finds mine. Like he knows. Like he understands. A harsh squeeze of patience. He let's go.

The pursuit seems to go for miles. Edward keeps a distance, never letting them come close enough, but not fast enough to loose them. I look up and buildings are sparse. He's taking us away from the busy city. The road turns to dirt with a sharp left. More trees and landscape. A wooded area close by. I sigh with relief catching my breath. They continue to follow us.

I look up at Edward and he finally looks over his shoulder. His eyes stern with focus over my head. He turns and speeds dramatically. I almost yelp when he turns to face them. The force fierce with the halt. He holds us up with a foot and we're looking straight in the face of the enemy. They skid to a stop far away. Wheels bring up clouds of dirt, sirens fade to mute, men rush out of doors to kneel behind them. Guns aim. All stops.

This is it.

My eyes frantically search for similar brown ones. Staggered breathing. Edward doesn't move an inch. And I can't seem to move a limb. His orders rippling in my mind. I stay. Numbing fear.

And there, center to all frozen officers, cruisers and whirling lights, a shiny polished shoe appears. My eyes instantly flicker to the only movement—black slacks, black tie over crisp white shirt, full grey trench coat..._him. _Charlie climbs out of a black SUV from the back. Sun reflects off his badge nestled in a breast pocket. He walks. His stature, and movement familiar to years of observing my father with awe filled eyes. Pride. Unmistakable strength I've known radiating from his every pore. Squared shoulders of confidence and power. I know this man. As familiar as speaking, walking and involuntary breathing. But I can't find the depth of his brown eyes. They're hidden behind aviators the color of his dark hair, gleaming with reflection of chaos. Yet, they sit on a calm and collected expression over his face. Cold.

He walks closer, flanked by two men in black coats. They come towards us in wide strides, passing all armed men. No hesitation in a single bone, owning the ground he walks on.

I blink. I let go with tense arms around Edward. Helmet off and forgotten, as it wobbles on the ground beside me. I can't look away. Not even when they leave suited men behind yards away and finally stop in front of us. My throat grows heavy with a forming lump. _Charlie. _

I lift off the bike. The warmth of the strong body leaving my front. All orders forgotten.

Edward tenses. Visible only from my peripheral with a slight look over his shoulder. His head bows fractionally. His jaw flexes. Anger. I can feel the intensity of the broken rule but I ignore it.

"Dad." My mouth dry. Barely audible. He doesn't move. One step and white knuckles on a handle and throttle. I ignore the ball of rage beside me. I blink. Charlie slides his shades off. My eyes shifts to what his eyes are focused on. Not me..._Edward_.

"Are you done? Is it all out of your system?" he says. His voice booming and chilling me. We're far enough away from awaiting officers to be heard. The silence is a sign to the private confrontation. We're alone. "Give me a fucking good reason not to open fire and end this right now." I look at Edward. His teeth grind. Red. But his hands stay in place, free from Ivory he slipped back in its strap earlier. He's holding back. It's itching him to reach for it. He doesn't respond.

I lift a hand and rest it on his shoulder to calm him. Anything. His shoulder blade coils. But it only stirs tension further. Charlie's eyes shift at the gesture. They darken. He finally looks up at mine.

"Dad, I'm...I'm alright. Everything's fine," a nod. Blank. My brows furrow at the distance he's keeping. _Isn't he relieved to see me? _My lips close and open at the off putting reaction. "I wanted to find you again. I hoped you knew I didn't die."

"So it seems," he says numbly, "You're alive." His mustache twitches. Nothing. I nod slowly not understanding.

I take a step and Edward's hand shoots off the handle onto my wrist. He holds me back roughly. I look into his eyes and they plead, laced with anger. _No matter what happens, do not leave my side... _But I have to. I pull at his hand and twist away.

"Get your hands off my daughter," a growl. I look up at piercing brown eyes. Edward doesn't look at him, but me. Nose flared.

"It's ok," I whisper, trying to pull his fingers away. I dig my nails when he doesn't relent.

My eyes widen. I look up to cocking guns instantly clicking into place before us. He reaches into his wool shirt and pulls out Ivory. _Dammit, Edward. _The black clothed men are ready and aiming theirs. Charlie has nothing but a clenched fist and shades in hand.

"Stop it," I hiss at Edward in a desperate whisper, "Please."

"C'mere, Bells. Let's take you home." I look up at my name coming from his lips. I breathe. His hand outstretched. I want to sink mine into it. "I've missed you," he murmurs. And the lump is back. My eyes water. I reach. Edward tugs me sharply when I limply drop our fighting hands to take a step.

We fight. While Edward pulls at me, Charlie yells at him to let me go. And I do, I want to go to him, but Edward doesn't stop. I look at his furrowed stare. "Please," but nothing. I tear slips and he doesn't let go.

"Let her go or I'll fucking shoot your arm off!" Charlie yells. Edward lifts the gun and aims between his eyes. He glares from under his lashes. _He'll do it. He warned._

"No! Don't shoot!" I lift a hand to both. I look back at Charlie and then at Edward. I cave, frantic. I drop to my knees and crawl to Charlie with a grunt. Clouds of dirt around me as I thrash. My arm stretches still in Edward's grasp. I cry. "Please, don't shoot!"

But it's a moot plead. They glare at one another in a silent war. I crawl back to Edward and plead with a hand on his solid forearm. "Stop this!" I tug and punch. But he doesn't look at me. They're lost. I crawl back. Torn. My boots skidding dirt under me, pulling. My sobs are the only sounds interrupting the tense air between us.

"Dad, please, I need help," I implore through tears. My vision blurry with every pouring wetness over my cheeks to my clothes. "There's something really wrong, please," I choke on a staggered sob. He finally brakes away from Edward's eyes. He looks at me. His cold demeanor melts and he takes the last steps towards me. Edward follows him with Ivory. He stands, still straddling the bike. Charlie ignores him. He bends and lifts me by my shoulders.

The instant I feel Edward's grasp falter, my heart pounds. Slowly, he let's go. His fingertips lingering over mine a mere second. A heaviness cloaks my heart. But I take a step into strong arms anyway. I reach on toes and fold my arms around Charlie's neck. He holds me. I can finally hold him back. _Really him. _Flesh and blood. The other half of me. I silently cry into his shoulder, tears soaking his sharp spotless coat. I don't care. _God, I've missed him. _So much.

All of my worries and fears fade. All the shit I've been through in a matter of months. All of it. Off. Like a weight being lifted. I cry and know this is where I want to feel safe. He'll make it better. His whispered hush into my hair tells me so. It only makes me cry harder. _Home _rushes in and I remember. I've missed it.

I sniffle trying to calm myself as he rubs at my back. He holds me tighter around him with a peck against my temple. "Shh Shh, It's alright. I'm here," he coos. I can only breathe and nod. He brushes my hair away from my face. I pull back enough to look into his eyes. _My eyes. _

"God, am I glad to see you. I've been worried. Did they hurt you?" he asks, taking inventory. He wipes my cheeks with thumbs. I shake my head in his hands.

"You have to listen to me..." but he doesn't.

"Did _he _hurt you, Bells? What did he do? I swear he'll rot in prison," he says looking up.

"No, no. Please. Listen. It's about mom. We have to help her," He stops and his eyes darken. They cut to Edward behind me and back to me. His lips go pale white as they press into a line.

"Hunny, your mother is gone," he says with a shake of his head.

"I know, I know but... there's a video. Before she died. I saw it. I have it..." I trail off. Uneasiness falls over me. It's quiet. Too quiet. Everyone waits for me to speak. Charlie's eyes aren't on me. He glares at Edward over my shoulder from his peripheral. I look around me. At the cruisers and awaiting officers far away. At the black clothed men...

And then I stop. Black eyes. Tan, mocha skin and hair so black it shines midnight blue in the sun. He stares. The smirk at the corner of his lips turning to a snarl. The armed man standing at Charlie's right hand is smiling. Chills. Up my spine to my fingertips.

I know him. My lips move and I tell him... _I know you. _His smile grows, white sharp teeth.

Charlie's shoulders tense under my hands. He turns to look at him too, then back at me. "That's Paul. Remember him?" he says, a smile in his voice, "Use to make mud pies when you were kids, right?" Paul dips his head in a nod. I haven't seen him in years. All grown up. Built as strong as Jake under his black t-shirt.

"I know who you are. Why are you here?" I ask Paul directly. My voice rising. He doesn't respond.

"He's here to help. We all are, Bells." My mind runs with memories of Jake. The black coats Edward killed. Same. All my childhood friends are like Jake and they all work with Charlie. "C'mon," he tugs at my arms. "Let's go home."

I hear Edward behind me move at Charlie's words. And so does Paul. He turns and his chest puffs as his stature hardens. His profile menacing, jaw flexing. And I know this man from somewhere else. Not the skinny kid I once knew.

Angela, Mike and I stood in a hospital elevator once. Seems like years ago. We ran for our lives. Terrified. A tan, dark haired man came after us. His snarl showing sharp teeth. Far too close before the doors closed shut. _Him._

The intensity radiating off Edward is crawling my skin. I can feel him. _Do not leave my side... _I swallow heavily. _Shit._

I look up at Charlie and he's looking back at me. Blank. But I see the slight twitch of his mustache. I know him like the ease of walking, talking and involuntary breathing. He's desperate. Nervous. His hands grow tighter around my arms. He knows about mom. He knows about the key. He knows it all. And he wants it from me.

With dry eyes and building anger, my shoulders and spine straighten. I let him go and take a step back.

"Dad, just answer me one question and then we'll go home," I nod. My voice foreign to my own ears. Cold. Just as everyone I ever loved has been to me.

Edward is anything but calm behind me. Pebbles crack under his boots. I move a hand behind me, reaching, finding. _Ivory._ Its tusk heavy in my dirt soiled palm. Edward stops. He sees. I breathe. But I have to ask. I have to know if my father knows _everything. _So I look into eyes that have deceived his own flesh and blood in exchange for power and money. Eyes I will never grow to love the same way again. It shifts. My heart broken into a millions pieces. I hold my breath, promising myself I'll never waste love on him again. My lips part, "Where did you and Mom meet?" He stares. I wait.

Silence.

A bob of his throat. He shuffles his feet in his spotless shoes. He blinks. His hands run over my arms to my neck. _Stalling. _He doesn't respond. He knows where it is. And wherever it is, _the Berry is. _The last element he needs is me.

Silence never felt so deceitful. It stings. Burns. "Mom said I could trust you. After all these years, what changed?" His teeth grind. He sends a death glare Edward's way. "The least you could do, after all the lies, is answer me," I hiss. "_Where is it?_"

His eyes cloud to black. The vein on his forehead plump. His eyes flicker back to mine. He whispers, "They'll hear, Bells. Come with me and I'll take you myself." But he squeezes around my neck too hard. My free hand grips his, my other around Ivory harder still.

"Stop it," I spit. I stand on toes as he pulls, his hands tightening. He switches. I see my father leave this strange man's eyes and fill him with poison.

"Gratitude is in order for bringing her to me, Mr. Masen. Very gracious," he says with a haunting smirk. "I hope she wasn't too much trouble. She can get a bit fussy." He chuckles looking over my face. His thumb circling my cheek.

I'm panting, frantic. He squeezes harder with every fight. "Dad, please," I whimper digging my nails into his flesh.

"Unfortunately for you, Edward," he continues unfazed, "I'm detaining you for the kidnapping of Isabella Marie Swan, theft, false identity, disturbance of the peace, murder on all degrees..." he pauses looking up at him, "Hell, we can be here all day listing the many... many ways can't we?" he laughs menacingly. It fades after a tense moment. His face grows serious, vicious. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law..."

I scream. He states Edward his rights all the while he stares back at my blurry eyes. I thrash. I kick. Fight. But he's too strong. "Edward!" but there's nothing but silence behind me.

"Gentlemen?" Charlie calls behind him when he finishes. He nods, "Justice has been served. Miraculously two with one stone. Our infamous Red Ribbon Killer has brought my girl back to me. It's a wonderful day," his smile wide and gleaming. "Cuff him."

"No!" I punch at his shoulders. He doesn't even flinch.

"Yes, darling. It's over now. You're safe." He's insane. He jostles me and my hand slips away from behind me. My feet and knees drag on ground. I can't even reach for Ivory. _Useless_. He pulls me by my collar. I feel like a hole has been punched through my chest. Charlie. _My father._

I cry for my mother. Wishing I could bring her back with a desperate plea. Wishing this nightmare would end and I'd awake. I watch him above me, pulling me along and nothing. Blank. Like a stranger. He slips his shades on and strides away, his fist around my jacket, like all of this fell into his plans.

And Edward... _God I've failed him. _I shout for him and he doesn't respond. I don't blame him if he leaves. Runs. I want to tell him to save himself. But I can't. All of it, _done_. Me and my foolish relentless hope. He was right. _So right._

Screams rip out of me.

Gunshots. Everything stops. Two men fall. Charlie looks back. Paul grunts, screams. His arm and a leg almost off. The other, choking. His neck. Crimson soaks the dirt below. _Absolute chaos._ Men in suits run towards us. Shields and armor. Aiming rifles.

"Hold fire!" Charlie shouts, "Hold your fucking fire! I want him alive!" A hand up to stop them. I take that moment and drop to my knees. He's forced to let go. I hear the motorcycle roaring to life. My insides do the same.

"Bella!" Edward growls. My name laced with a stern order to _run_. And I do. I get up. _I move. _As hard and as fast as I can...just for him.

A shock shoots up my spine. Haste footsteps behind. I look back. A blur of a grey trench coat. He runs at full speed. My heart in my throat. I charge harder, through trees and bushes and leaves. Away from aiming guns and officers in suits. I will my legs to move faster. But nothing... I gasp, a choked scream.

His heavy hand grabs me by my hair and neck. I'm pulled. My back slams on greens and dead leaves. My breath punched out of my lungs. I heave. He lifts me to my feet. My back slams on his chest. Charlie curls his forearm around me. Metal at my temple. _Oh God..._

"You are in shit trouble, young lady," he whispers, taunting. Evil consumes him now. We are out of site. My tear soaked cheeks and jaw tremble with fear. Edward is blurry through my watery vision in front of me. My raging angry sobs fill the surrounding woods.

"Dad, please...don't do this," I plead. "It's me! Why would you do this to me?_ Please..._" My knees buckle. Weak. Spent. He jostles me to my feet again. He ignores me.

"Attempt to kill me, you fucker, she goes with me. You, Carlisle... no one! _No one gets shit!_" Charlie threatens Edward. He digs the barrel deeper into my skin. My heart pounds at his words. I can't breathe.

"How much did Aro promise you, Lieutenant?" Edward's deep voice is calm. His forearm straight and coiled holding up a twin in his hand. Its other half burning the skin on my back. _Aro? A new name. _Worm, upon worm, oozes out of this mindless puzzle. And I'm caught cluelessly in the middle. "The least you can do is tell your daughter how much she's worth," he continues. Charlie grows silent. His chest heaving under my back.

"She begged me to find you thinking her _father _would help her. So, go on. Tell her how much you'll helped," he growls. He rattles the gun in his hand taking a step. Red. I swallow heavy, wincing.

"And what the fuck would you know what a father should do for his child, hm? A little bastard orphan like you who never even _knew_ his own father." Charlie says over my head. I watch Edward's eyes slightly widen. Murderous. "At least _I _never gave mine away to be experimented... to be probed and raised to be a killer."

I wince. Horrified. _No... _

The color over Edward's face drains away to pale. His lips a pale hue of blue, they part. He blinks. I hold my breath searching his eyes. They flicker away. Lost. They focus again. But I catch it. A slight hint of confusion in his narrowed eyes. _Shit...he didn't know. _Charlie laughs. His cackle loud, chilling. The lowest blow.

Beyond the minimal confessions he has revealed to me, I never knew much more of Edward's past. Apparently, neither does he. I wonder then, how Charlie would know such details. My cheeks grow warm. My heart aching heavily for the man standing in front of me.

"Shut up," I hiss at Charlie. I stomp a foot on his. He pushes me roughly with the gun at my head. I freeze.

"You didn't know?" Charlie's voice oozing amusement. He continues torturing him. "Well, of course you wouldn't. You wouldn't know how your father took you from the streets, just to give you away again. My little girl here isn't the only one full of surprises in this tale, boy," he says squeezing me tighter. "At least I kept mine. Close. Where I kept an eye on her. All meant for this day," Charlie says. "So, step aside... and _fuck off_."

He steps away, pulling me with him. I stagger. "Bella, darling, say goodbye to your boyfriend. You won't see him again," he whispers in my ear. My blood boils in me. I grunt with an angry struggle.

Men in suits begin to appear through woods far away. But I can't look away from Edward. My eyes grow wide. I watch his stare growing lethal under his lashes. He dips his head and lifts the twin eye level. His index curling over the trigger. Ready.

My stomach plummets because when he pulls, they'll kill him. I know this. This is how he's willing to end this. He'd sacrifice himself..._for me_. Just as he always has. But I won't. Not this time. I won't let him do it. I can't let them take the one person I have left. He's all I've got. I won't let him do it all alone. So I reach. I find. I pull out.

Charlie's neck strains up in an angel. He gasps. Surprise in his deep eyes. My hand curls tighter around _my _Ivory. I aim for his throat. He lets me go. I turn on him like tables turning.

"Get your disgusting hands off me." I push. He stumbles back. His eyes search mine through his lashes. Red rises his neck. His arms spread at his sides. Shock. He doesn't look as intimidating now. All respect and fear for him lost. I soar.

"I'm walking away. You will stand here and you will watch me leave. And if you follow, I swear on mom's grave, I will make you pay for every lie you've made me live with. No regrets."

I step away. My aim perfect between his eyes. The stampede of men in suits charge closer behind him. I hear Edward quickly slip onto the bike. It roars behind me. My muscles coil with the sound. _Move. Run. _And I want to, with all my strength. But my father stares. His snarl sharp_. _His chest heaving with rage. But it might as well be still, cold, six feet under ground... lifeless. Because I don't want him anymore. He's not mine, and I'm not his. I am my mother's child and no one else's.

"You are dead to me," my voice fails. I hold it in, lips trembling. I hold back from breaking to pieces while he still watches. I will not. I refuse. _I hate him. _

A strong arm curls around my waist. I feel my feet leave the ground. Edward. He lifts me onto his lap between his arms hastily. At the blink of an eye, we're gone. The engine rumbles beneath. His warm chest against my heart, pounding in mine. I curl my numb legs at his side as he pulls harder at the throttle. I hold on. Tense fingers around his nape. I bury my endless tears over his shoulder. Wool soaking them away. I watch, as the gleaming twin bounces in my grip. I aim still, at a face who belonged to a man I once knew.

He screams.

—•—•

The rumbling vibration stops. All is silent now. I sit in his lap still folded into myself. I'm good here. I can stay like this for eternity. I've watched the sky turn from yellows and blues to purple and orange twilight. It all looks more peaceful in his arms. I wish he would keep driving. I wish he would take me to the moon. The farthest place from the past, present and a hopeless future. But he can't. He stops. The black beast underneath us tame, quiet.

I awake from my numb revere. He wraps me around him. His cheek brushing mine. His lips by my ear, "Bella." A whisper. And I wish from now until forever, everything would be as soft and quiet as his murmur. No more chaos. I blink up to his eyes from his shoulder. Wary. "Let's go inside."

I peal my cheek off his shoulder and sit up with his help. I don't know where inside is. I can't seem to care. My eyes droop with exhaustion. He slides me over his thigh to my feet. I stay, one hand glued to his arm. He climbs off and slips my hand into his, pulling me to his side. I almost don't notice the familiar pavement and stone tiles on the pathway. We walk and I keep my gaze to the ground. My eyes find the crack on the third stone, just where it always been. I lift my gaze.

_My old apartment. _

A spent exhale finds its way between my lips. _My home. _A lump at my throat. But it fades. No more tears to shed. _He knew... all along. _I look up at him. His expression blank as he leads me to the door. He bends. He pulls out the spare key under the potted plant on the left. _Just where it always been. _

"We'll be safe here for a while... last place they'll look," he murmurs. I just nod.

He pulls me inside and I almost feel like a guest in my own home. It's been so long. Eternity. I wonder briefly how I haven't lost it already. No payed rent. I don't bother questioning. _Knowing Edward..._ His movements at ease with familiarity. Like he's been here a thousand times. I barely notice him reaching for the light switch blindly. I look around, standing in the middle of the living room. Everything intact. _Just as it always been. _

I wrack my fingers through my hair. A mess. I stare at nothing. At my planted feet on wooden floors. His boots appear beside mine. His hand at small of my back. _And I can't. _My fingers dig and pull at my hair minutely. I move. I find the door and close it behind me.

I rush to the shower and turn the knob. At least it'll bury the silence. I can't stand it now. It's too loud. It fights with me to take a deep breath. I try so hard but I can't. My chest aching.

Steam isn't nearly comforting enough. But my skin prickles. I stumble against the vanity and a mirror is inevitable. I can't bare the look of me. I can't even remember the last time I've seen the face staring back at me. Since last, her whole world has turned upside down. I wonder how she dealt. If she's ok. If she's the same. But I don't bother asking, because I see a stranger. I can't speak to a stranger without a single spark of familiarity. She's not me.

Steam fogs her and I'm glad. Her dark eyes gone. Her hollow cheeks gone. Her pale lips shut and gone. I pull my jacket off. Glued. My skin crawls. My hands fumble trying to go faster. To get it all off. "God..." I whimper. My teeth grinding. My left boot sticks. I hit the ground. Pull and off. I throw back my arm. It slams on the grimy tiled wall with a bang. Pull and off. Pull and off until I'm bare.

Scars, scabs, bruises and blood. It wasn't a lie. It all happened. Reality. My fingers dig on caved skin and ribs. Thinning. Fading. To nothing.

_I'm nothing. Nothing at all._

I long to fade like pink steaks down the drain. The steaming hot water from the shower burns my skin to red. I turn it to give me more. To scald. And I catch my blackened nails. I pick at, dirt, debris, blood... skin. _His skin. _From digging. From fear and anger. Flesh and blood we were. I pick them out and the drain swallows them. I find a brush. I scrape them off until I can't feel the tips.

My chest. My face. Soap on a brush and scrape until raw. _Fuck flesh and blood. _

A blade in a razor. Not enough to cut anything but prickles. Smooth legs sting and redden with the heat of cleansing water. I pull at the bandage there. The one he so gently placed. But it ungratefully stings. Crimson scabs and pain.

My skull. My hair. Nails dig scalp. Clean. The scent too sweet for the bitter taste on my tongue.

That is all that's left. _And I can't. _My knees find porcelain and I purge the bitter out. Draining my sorrow away, making room for more. It runs over and stills from my heart. My chest. Caving and heaving. _Fucking tears. _Again. Tears and bile and blood. A reoccurring nightmare.

I try to breathe around the stream still falling over my back. I find a corner in the filling tub and stay. Where it makes sense. Curled over bent knees against my chest. Nothing moves. _Nothing._ Just like me. I let the tears win for so long, I forget. The stream grows colder.

I shiver. Trembling limbs. Prickling skin. My teeth clatter.

_No. _I want to tell him. A shake of my head. But he turns the knob until it's off. His warm hands find my shoulders and he pulls me to my slippery feet. Weak. My face finds its way to wool again. The warmth of a towel all around me. He's always there it seems. Where I am, he finds me. His arms unfailingly strong as my feet leave the tub. He carries me.

But God, I can't look at him. He crosses the room while he stares at me. _Shame._ Because he knew and I didn't listen. I endangered his life and mine. I even put him against his own family. All for nothing. For a wounding confirmation that my father is not who I thought he was. And here I am... _he must think me weak. _

"Please... please don't say it," I beg. A new tear slips... or a droplet, I can't tell which anymore. I find his lips with trembling fingers. I close them shut with all my strength because I don't want to hear it. His arms around my back and under my knees cradling. I look up at the question in his eyes. "Don't tell me you told me so. Don't fucking say it. I can't take it." My hiccuping pulsing through my chest.

His eyes soften under knitted brows. I bury my face in his bare neck to stay away from his judging eyes.

His sits on my bed over the white plush comforter i love so much. Still here. I've missed it. He moves me to sit on it and pulls a cotton worn shirt over my damp hair. My favorite... and of course he'd know. I do as he indicates, pushing through each sleeve. He pulls at my towel from underneath and I float in barely sheer softness. _Home. _I sigh around a hiccup. He rubs my hair dry, cloaking my face and ears with soft cotton. He combs his fingers gingerly through the wavy ends when he's done. I just let him, my eyes rest under heavy lids. My palms find my face. I rest my elbows on my knees, as he soothes my nerves with his touch.

He moves and like a magnet, I feel the pull. He strides through the dark moon lit room and watches whatever catches his jade eyes out the window. There's nothing to say, though a billion questions need to be answered. None of us speaks.

He sits on Nana's favorite rocking chair in the corner of my room. Slowly, he tilts and rocks, sending memories of her holding me there until I fell asleep. I found it in the attic of my child hood house. I couldn't bear to get rid of it. He moves in it and it only brings me memories that bring other memories... of a father I once had. And I break again. The hiccups turning to silent tears.

His arms open over the armrests. A few of his fingers flex in indication. So I do. I go. I crawl my way into his lap where he holds me. My sighs and sniffles the only sounds in silent defeat. He picks at a hole at the dipped collar over my shoulder. At the damp tangles in my hair. The slight swing as he rocks is over whelming with comfort.

"Though your father and mother forsake you, the Lord will receive you. Psalm Twenty-seven, Ten," he whispers. The biblical verse familiar. I breathe it in deeply, taking in the true words from the odd source it slipped from. I marvel silently at the baritone in his voice. It vibrates through his chest.

"That was the only thing I remembered out of all the forced Sunday School lessons," he says softly. "I never believe it. Why would anyone want me if my own parents didn't?" I swallow thickly. My brows knitting. His confession startling and... _human_. I'm frozen with selfish curiosity, trying not to ruin the moment with breathing. I savor. He continues after a long pause.

"Mrs. Cavill, my foster mother, was religious. She told me once to stop fighting hope away. That eventually, it would bring faith," he pauses to swallow and breathe. His chest lifts under my cheek. "So, I tried it for a while. I listened... because she was the only one who never added to my bruises." I inhale silently. I find his hand in the dark and ghost over his knuckles, the scars. I don't speak. "And...she was right," he says, "I'm still alive.

"But they moved me away before I had the guts to tell her. I never saw her again."

I whisper an apology. I don't know what else to say. My eyes dried up with every spoken word. But he responds through silence. His palm turns and weaves my fingers with his.

"You're not alone, Bella. I lost mine too." And I know he's right. _So right. _I sigh.

"What happened to them?" I have to ask. I want to keep the portal open. I want to hear him speak.

"She died in car accident when I was little. I was waiting for her to pick me up from Kindergarten one day and she never came," he says. I wince. "I don't remember anything but the color of her hair... probably because it looked like mine."

"Oh," I gulp. I bite my lip, hoping he would tell me more. I recall how Charlie taunted him about his father. "And him?"

"I don't know," he answers. "I just remember moving to a new house with people I didn't know. He...vanished. I always thought he died with her. All I remember about him were his blue eyes...and that he gave me away. For so long I wondered if I did something...if it was me." My insides churn. My fingers tighten around his.

"It wasn't you, you know that. And I'm sorry... for what Charlie said. I didn't..." I sigh. "I never knew he knew him. I don't know how. I mean, why would your father do that. I just don't... I don't understand." He's quiet for a moment. I wonder if I went to far. I try a peek at his face. The moon shinning over a blank expression gazing out the window. I try, "Do you... do you think its true?" He shakes his head slowly. He blinks.

"When he said it, I instantly remembered a couple of men in military fatigue convincing me to join. Free food. Bed to sleep in. I had nothing to loose. So I accepted," he pauses. His expression hardening, "They practically pushed me in a truck and took me right then. I thought it was procedure."

_Jesus... _It _was_ true. I watch him with widened eyes. His eyes peel away from the darkened sky to my face.

"Oh God, Edward. I'm so..." He looks away with a wince. I choke on my words with a hand over my lips. His chest rising with a strained sigh. Restraining anger. He doesn't want to hear it. Both of us knowing how his life turned out after that. Utter hell. The torture began._ Experimented, probed, and raised to be a killer._ Charlie's words ring true.

"If I ever find him alive, I'll kill him," he finally says. His voice thick with certainly and anger. Chills run up my spine as I lean back on his shoulder. I shiver, feeling his warm breathing on my head. He rubs my arm with a hand when I should be comforting him.

"It still doesn't explain how Charlie knows," I murmur. My curious mind running. There's no possible connection to my father and his. I don't remember a family with the last name _Masen_ when I was a kid. Everyone I knew was from the reservation or school. I shake my head sharing my thoughts.

"My mother's name."

"What?" I look up.

"I don't remember his last name because he changed mine to my mother's," he confesses. Silence falls between us.

My breath hitches, "He didn't want you to find him." He nods. _God... _I wrap my arm around his front. He had it worse than me. I almost want to offer him _my _shoulder. I can only hold him tightly wondering who was there for him the moment he realized his life was built with lies—like he's here for me right now. _No one was. _I know it.I sigh.

He rocks us to a silent rhythm. I hesitantly run my fingers over the inked scar on his chest. His collar dips with undone buttons. Warmth. His neck tendons coil with the touch. I feel his thumb circling around my hip. His lips touch my forehead. The heated air shifts. His touch the same. Suddenly, I'm aware of every inch of him and his wandering hands. My eyes flutter. His lips pucker on my skin, ghostly, before he trails a finger up my side. The wrinkles of my shirt rippling under the tip of his finger. I inhale deeply at his scent.

"Who's Aro?" I break the silence. He freezes. His lips forming a pucker when he suddenly breaks away. He doesn't answer. I wait, growing impatient. But he says nothing. I look for his eyes, turning my head over his shoulder to look at him. But can't catch my breath.

He leans. His lips brushing against mine. Tortuously, he grazes as he looks at me through his lashes. My chest fills with a soft gasp. He kisses me. My lids and breathing flutter with the pull. His bottom lip. I taste him. _He's stalling._ Never being the one to initiate this, I know he is. But I can't think. The change of topic tastes good. I pull on his collar.

I inhale sharply. Finding his hand skimming my leg to my thigh, around my bottom. He pulls me closer. Heat. My lips part. I catch his again deeply. He's magnet pulling on every prickle of my skin. And just like that, I forget what I was asking him.

I can't help a staggered breath when his thumb skims my breast, to the peak. The thinning cotton barely a barrier to the squeeze and the heat. I feel the greed seeping through my limbs and in between. So quickly. Dizzy. Wrapped fingers around his neck. Tongue and warm. I'm instantly formulating how I'd straddle his legs. My nightshirt tugging higher with every shift on his lap. But he holds me still.

He pulls away. I'm panting. _…and why is he stopping?_ My eyes peel open still in a trance. He's looking down at me. Uneasy, I shift my eyes over his face. A flush.

"That's a long story to tell. And you need to sleep," he whispers.

"Story?" my dizzy head. His lip lifts faintly and so does his bottom off the seat. My feet find the floor.

I gasp. A near jump. Prickles. A single finger grazes the juncture of my bare bottom and thigh. Cotton settles down around his hand to cover me as he pulls me along. Unfazed. And... _What? _Fucking riled up and he's pushing my back to help me fall into bed. Soft. I curl underneath the comforter with betraying closed eyes. He pulls it over me.

"Sleep," he orders sternly. My eyes roll. _Geez. _Edward as ever.

I turn on my side wondering why he stalled on answering the question I now remember. And faintly wondering why is it that no matter how long you're away, your bed still feels the same. You sink and you find the spot that feels like it's supposed to. Finding cold spots under your feet. The weight of the quilt. The way your hand hides under a pillow.

He was probably right. I hear the creak of the rocking chair and fall deeply knowing he's there and won't leave like everyone else has in my life.

—•—•–•

Asleep and awake.

I don't know what time it is. It takes me a while to figure out where I am before I fall back into a deep slumber. My mother's familiar voice trickles into my ears as Edward watches the video I left in my pocket.

He replays. The looping words and tears down my cheeks. I hide behind the sheets. The lump in my throat taking over. Wishing I had her. But I can't fight the sleep. I fall eventually after the seventh time it plays.

—•—•—•

Steam.

I jolt awake, still sprawled over rustled sheets. My heaving chest settles with the sight of surroundings. Edward is still awake. The room is lit by the bathroom door ajar. Like he always leaves it when he showers. I watch the trickling steam floating into the dark moon lit room. The scent of soap and clean. His bare back probably soaked with the falling stream. I dream of him. Of his bronze hair turning dark through his fingers as he brushes it away. His scar over wet shoulders and chest. My eyes close again and I dream of his lips still lingering. A sigh of wanting him. Right beside me on my pillow. Yet, he's far. I fall and dream with him in a fog.

Hands. Legs. Fingers in hair and staggered breaths. I'm pulled, down. A shiver. Cold touching my warmed skin exposed from under a warm quilt. I dream of his fingers. Running. Curiously finding my legs and thighs, my sides. Pushing at cotton that tugged with the pull—wrinkling around his wrists. Over my bare stomach, ribs, breasts. I sigh. The ache in between spreading. Down my inner thighs and... _I need him_.

His eyes find me in a dream. Green. They call and I respond with hands, his cheek. Everything surrounding us white and beautiful. No fear, nor tears. He's with me and no one else.

Trembling thighs from kisses, his warm sigh. My back curves. Not nearly close enough. I lift heavy legs with bent knees. Parting. Warm hands ghosting in between. I say his name, finding. But he doesn't respond. Green eyes blink. Watching above me. _Please... _And I can't take the ache. I reach. To find folds and wet in between. To relieve myself or I'll burst. Just like so many lonely nights in my room. This bed. These sheets. Thinking of him, just me and yearning. But my fingers don't find me...but a jaw. Smooth. Strong.

I gasp. And with it my eyes open. Green eyes fade and a dream fades with them. A glowing ceiling with shadows and steam above me. I breathe in damp air, clean. I cry out. _Prickles and prickles._ The ache shooting up my spine and trembling thighs. Spread. He licks. I feel his tongue by my fingers. Passing. A kiss on my swollen nerve.

_Fuck..._

I awake wide eyed. A feeling so erotic. Filling. Relieving the ache fully. I slowly look. Trailing my eyes down my front. My breasts exposed, under a bunched up shirt... stomach... _and him. _His hands around my thighs to keep my hips from moving on their own. I moan. Sinking deeper to where he pulled me to the edge of my bed. He licks and my lips part with the feeling.

My hands trails over his wet hair, still from the shower. His bare neck and back, droplets all over. He kneels with a towel around his hips and nothing else.

_Lick. _I moan loudly, bucking. He devours me. The wetness leaking with every pulse in me. He takes it. Lapping lazily. My legs spread wider with every writhe. A hitched breathe when he bites. Choked moans. I fall back with an arc to my spine. I ride his insidious mouth.

I lift on my elbow because I have to see. And I moan because I can't take the sight. Him. My Edward. Mine._ Fucking gorgeous._ I grow weak, panting. A pulse with another lick. His back muscles rippling, he holds me down. His hair slicked back and dark. I gasp when drops from his shoulder fall on my heated thigh. Cold. My leg damp from his wet shoulder.

He looks at me. His eyes under lashes. Dark. _A lick. _And I see his pink tongue. I whimper. His thumb brushing my clit follows for added pressure. Fists around my comforter. And... _this isn't happening. I'm dreaming. _A girl like me isn't lucky enough. _No. _A girl like me doesn't look into green eyes on a man like him, taking everything he willingly gives. My head falls back when that thumb finds the inside of me. I cry out. _And he knows how to give willingly. _

Glisten. The valley between my breasts in beads of heat. I writhe through my undoing. He doesn't relent. Sucking between his lips. I can't hold back the screams. Stars replace the shadows over the ceiling. A burst. Muscles tensing, I come.

My body still releasing and he pulls me. I'm over him curled over the edge of the bed. Sheets dropping around me as I straddle him. My shirt off with hasty fingers. His face buried between my breasts inhaling. Teeth and lips. Desperate. His hands sprawled against my back. I can't even open my eyes as whimpers from wave after wave still releasing. I pulse against him. My hips moving against his abdomen, flexing.

He finds my parted lips. Hair pulling. A deep kiss. I hold on to his shoulders with weak arms, fingers through his wet hair. I'm panting around his lips.

He pulls away only to stand with me wrapped around him. He crawls on my bed. I watch, hypnotized, as he kneels above me. Hard. Bobbing with every one of his movements. He wraps his teeth around a nipple. _Please..._ I writhe beneath him. I breathe him in, his hair on my face. Desperate to have him like this again. I grip his hips to pull him closer. He digs and pulls a bundle of quilt beneath my bottom. Suspended, deeper. My legs wrap around him. I moan, crazed, feeling him between folds. A thrusts. He slips in. A hitched breath pulling through my lips. He pulls back and rushes in again, completely.

His forearms flex with every palpable move. Shoulders and chest. I pulse at the depth of him. Stretching. _Still a dream... _I swear it, when I look up at him. His eyes telling me the same.

He wraps his arms around me and kneels. Sheets wrapping around legs and bare skin. I whimper, straddling narrow hips. The position allowing flush pelvis. His shallow thrusts suffocating. I look in his eyes and they melt. Furrowed brows as he looks at me. _God... _and in this very moment I want to tell him so many things. That I care so deeply and fallen the same. _Or say it first and I promise to say the same... _I caress his face. His eyes flutter, a kiss.

I move over his lap selfishly. My face in his neck, jaw, chest. His head fallen back and eyes closed. Groping over my back, cupping my bottom..._more_. And I do. He moves and I move. Uncoordinated lips. He slips me on my back again and I push him onto his. My hair cascading around us, skimming his chest. Flex. I give in to the feeling when he pushes up to meet me, rough hands on hips. Skin slipping, heated.

_Never. _Never have I wanted a man so much. And he's here, in my room, where the moon cloaks his skin and inked scar with a glow. I dreamed of him so many times on this bed. Of finding him and seeing his face. My heart pounds in my chest.

He cups my chin, he pulls me over him for lips. Flush. His hand ghosting down my sides. Every limb tensing with each circle of his thumb when he finds me between us. With my forehead pressed to his, I let go. Moans. Prickles cascading up my spine from where we meet. I feel him pulsing deeply with his own release. Grunting. Guiding my hips for the last phew, spent. The sound he makes so fucking erotic. I absorb it with a brush of my tongue.

His eyes peal open, gazing at me. His lips red and parted with every strained breath. And I want to tell him. It dances at the tip of my tongue...

_I love you._

•—•—•—••

* * *

**A/N: Yummy or meh? Sigh. He makes me hot. I think i'm in love with my own character. pathhheetiicc. **

**Ask away if you have questions, go ahead, I know you do! ;-) Also, sooo sorry I couldn't reply to all reviews. This site was giving me shit. I'll try! TY for adding! I see you!**

**Update news on profile and twitter. Thanks.**


	20. Chapter 19: Red

**A/N: HAPPY FRIDAY! Sigh. Soo sorry. :-( Writer's block. And all the plans to formulate the puzzle to the finish line is hard. That's why it took long. But since I let it simmer, the chap was more than expected... and longer. Go read! **

**Beta Beige, you are like the cookie that I buy at the cafeteria when I wanna cheat on my diet. Blissful.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — **_**Hangin' off the headboard.**_

—•—•—•

_**Sound: New Moon Score - Edward Leaves & Romeo & Juliet (No, really). **_

—•—•—•

**Chapter 19 - Red**

I don't know what it is about a man with a spatula in his hand that induces an automatic smirk at the corner of your lip. As faint, suppressed or as bold, but it comes to you.

The slight motion of the muscles under his forearm and shoulder blade flexing as the spatula lifts and turns. It's awkward and not exactly the graceful motion a person with more experience would have going about a mundane task. But he does it in his own way. A way that works and just gets it done. Messy or over cooked or not quite right, but done no less. Better things to do.

I'm holding my breath taking in the sight in front of me. I hide. Just enough to witness the hands of a skilled killer using its swift abilities in a domestic task.

Breakfast.

The wafts of grease and eggs and that special inviting warmth of bread being toasted lured me in on tippy toes. It's like he's always been here. Yet, I have never seen it happen...ever. Not in my kitchen. Where I ran around late for work snatching the last granola bar off the bowl with one browning apple, a bobby pin and last weeks take-out receipt sitting in it.

I woke up alone again. Cold sheets behind me and the creeping anxiety, fear, set in when I remembered. _I remembered. _My lids stung. So quickly. And then he wasn't there. Emotions stirred as the haze of sleep faded with rose colored cheeks and heat... _everywhere. _What we did. What kept stirring through the night in shadows of a moon-lit room over bare skin and him. Tangled sheets over limbs finding warmth. To meet. Again. Bliss. No sleep. Yet, it wasn't enough.

We fell asleep after his instant push and pull of my back against his chest. He arranged the sheets over me in a tuck. As if to say, done. Spent. No more nonsense or curious fingers and lips. His heart against my damp back. Still, I wanted more.

His breathing evened, softly trickling down my nape. I was glad he didn't keep watch this time. The dark circles under his eyes are too deep. And then I remembered the first time I found him sleeping at my side at the Lab without knowing. Suddenly, feeling his lips against my hair felt just right. Not odd like that time. Like it belongs. Like he looks standing at the stove right now in only his dark pants and a dishtowel over his left shoulder. Nothing else.

God, he's hot. _Yes, I said it. Fuck it ...or him. Please and thank you. _Fluttering wings in my stomach.

I pick at chipped paint on the wall and wonder how did luck creep in to this fucked up situation I'm living through. I should say surreal, or a nightmare but... it deserves a more satisfying word.

Someone for everyone, though, right? I just never thought I'd see it happen. At least not for me. So, this one just happen to choose me. I don't have to be alone anymore. He doesn't seem to want to find the door and leave me to figure shit out on my own. I wonder what he finds in me. His furrowed brows and eyes closed as he kissed me last night shows how much he wants to stay. I can feel it. Though he'd never say it.

Standing here I just _know _any woman in my shoes (or barefoot with my favorite night shirt on) would never disagree with this sight. Wide shoulders. The dip at the small of his back down the curve of his full bottom I had my way with shamelessly. The line of his strong spine. The way the curled hair falls at his nape. He moves, and his jaw comes into view. Freshly shaved away the prickles I can still feel on my skin. Having a mysterious, tall, dark, handsome..._and dangerous_ man helping himself in your kitchen the morning after is...

No words.

I wonder when the script ends and credits roll to end this fiction. But it won't. Which is why I can't breathe because it's so real he...

"There's a point when staring goes from cute to creepy."

….can hear me. Yup, that's how real. My eyes roll. I hide my blush with indifference as I uncurl my big toe off the other. I straighten from my slouch against the wall.

"Please..." I mumble. _Wittiest comeback in all of history._ My stride freezes when he looks over his shoulder from the corner of his eye. He looks away to lick his thumb.

And I feel _that._

_Geez... _My knees meet. Then my feet are moving because there's a magnet—right between his shoulder blades. I feel him tense against my lips. His back straightens. A clank of a metal spatula. I can't help it. I ghost my lips over his warm skin. Inhale. And grin.

He takes a deep breath. He pushes my hand away when it creeps around his waist. Another peck on his scarred shoulder. And another slap at my other creeping hand. He sighs, annoyed.

"Go put some clothes on," he says. A bubble of humor expands in my belly. I don't know why this is amusing. It itches to push him. So, I lean flush against his back. "Swan," he warns. A tug of war with sneaky hands and a repellent rough one that isn't occupied with a spatula. I slip an arm around his torso, brushing over a trial of hair. He inhales sharply. I blink.

"Whoa," My feet are off the floor in half a beat. He drops me roughly on the counter in front of him.

"Stay still," he hisses. His face an inch away. I lift my hands in surrender.

"Yes, sir," I whisper. My eyes glued to his mouth. I press mine together to stop them from lifting at the corners. He takes his time to look away. _He's so grumpy. But when is he not?_

I watch him unceremoniously load a plate with scrambled eggs and shards of bacon over golden bread. My stomach growls. "Where did you, um... where did you get all this? Food must be expired in the fridge by now."

"Down the street. Eat," he orders. He places the plate by my thigh.

"You went out?" I ask surprised. "Someone could've seen you." My stomach churns at the thought of one of _them _finding us. But more at the fact that I was alone. I don't want to say it loud.

He just looks at me like I'm ridiculous. _Oh. Of course._ He's never reckless. I murmur a thank you and pick from the plate silently for a while. He stands with his arms crossed leaning on the counter beside me... watching. I swallow heavy under his intense gaze. His eyes scan my legs up to my chest. He stops there. He's never looked at me like that. My boldness from earlier fading to a blush.

"Aren't you hungry?" I ask to slice the silence and tension—and to breathe a little. His eyes slowly find mine. I awkwardly lift a forkful.

My breath hitches when he leans in slowly his eyes glued to mine all the while. He moves in to press his palms on the counter on either side of me. "Very," he whispers. His lips curl around the utensil and pulls. He bites.

His eyes flicker to my lips that are unknowingly parted with a little bit of tongue out. _Damns. _He smirks. His finger finds my lip and wipes at the corner there teasingly. I bite on my flesh and roll my eyes away. A slap of his hand. Flush red. I reach for another forkful and feed him as he stands between my knees. _He eats pretty. _I can't stop staring at his mouth or sneaking my knees around his hips.

I giggle slightly with a start when he moves in to bite off a piece of toast left hanging off my mouth. I fidget. Wiping it off with nervous fingers. My head is light from the blood rushing. The sparks shooting south of me. His playfulness odd. I've never witnessed this. I squirm while he chews and watches me. I offer more toast and he takes it.

"I'll pay you back," I murmur.

He swallows with new creases between his brows. "For?"

"For keeping the place. Paying the landlord." He looks away and shrugs one shoulder. He's more interested on whats on the plate. "How? I mean... why? Not that I'm ungrateful. Thank you, really. It feels... normal again." _Except for you between my legs._

"I needed a place to stay while I was away," he says nonchalantly. _He stayed here... in my bed. All along..._

"While I was locked in a basement?" I surprise myself with the slip. He looks at me sternly. He doesn't respond and grabs the fork off my hand as I have stopped midway. He continues eating.

Suddenly I feel angered. At the secrets and everything he has kept from me. Including how he knows so many things about me that I don't. Let alone which damned night shirt I like best to sleep in. My mouth runs before I can catch it. "So are you going to tell me who Aro is or do I have to find out when its too late and a gun is pointed at my head?"

He chuckles once. _Chuckles. _I watch him through narrowed eyes as he settles the fork back down and swallows. His shoulders lift under his ears as he leans in. His tongue swiping food off his teeth with a swipe. He licks his lips. I suddenly want to wipe the smirk off his face. _He's so infuriating. _

"First of all, believe it or not, that _basement _was safer than this apartment. I wasn't on va-ca-tion, Bella," he enunciates. I blink. "Secondly, don't you dare talk to me like that again. Is that understood?" I interrupt with a gasp. _What the fuck? _My voice rises and blood boils with the audacity.

"I'll talk to you the way I fucking want," I hiss, "Because apparently, noone seems to want to tell me what the fuck it going on!"

"Thirdly," he continues over me, "Don't ask about things that do not concern you." His voice never wavering and calm. I go ballistic. Red face. Livid. I push at his shoulders.

"It's _my life, _remember?" I scream over his stinging words. "You can't take that too! You can't fucking control me!"

"And lastly, I will not hold back if he's your cousin, your brother, your father or your fucking high school _prom date. _I will kill the fucker who lays a finger on you again." A crimson glare.

Silence. I gawk.

His eyes have never looked so..._possessive_. His lips grim and pale with anger. I exhale through my flared nostrils and move to push him away and slip off the counter. But I can't. He holds me down, locked between his lead arms. I fight him. I push at his arms, shoulders, chest... and nothing. My eyes sting. My throat closes. I grunt with another fist to his chest and he catches my wrists. He wraps his arms around me tightly, pulling mine behind my back in a hold. I look up to yell but his lips crash on mine. He kisses me.

Hopeless.

The betraying prickles between my legs crawl over my skin. My mouth parts for his tongue willingly and stupidly. I melt. It's him and I can't help it. My panting turns to a helpless moan. My leg moves around him in a demanding curl. My other heel finds the cabinet handle to accept his hips more. He pulls my bottom to the edge with my wrists. Feverish. The kiss turns desperate.

I twist my wrists to break free, to touch him like I've been aching for since I woke up. But he holds me still. He pulls to jut out my chest more. His mouth finds my breast. Wet sheer fabric from his tongue on a firm nipple. He bites. _All conflict forgotten._

Heated from anger one second, to heated in a whole different way the next. Whiplash.

His teeth yank on the dipped collar over my shoulder. A bare breast for his liking. His teeth sharp on tender skin turning red. His rough lips dizzying. I pull his ass with my calf and he stops just to feel himself grinding on my sex. He looks down. No underwear and my shirt hugs my waist.

Who needs panties when Edward is in close proximity?

I shift my hips against him and he grinds back roughly. He watches. His forehead against mine. My lips part at the whispered grunts in his throat with every thrust. So hot. I plant a palm past his hold behind me and writhe. Images of his dark skin in my dark room, his hands and thighs against mine. The strength of his relentless love making—it rushes back. I miss it already. I want it back.

I twist a wrist and still nothing. He's too engrossed in what he sees. So I let him do what he pleases because I'm so wrong**: H**e does control me. Every prickle and shiver I feel now is all him. I just move hard against him with eyes fluttering closed and moans against his cheek.

I barely feel one of his fists around both of my wrists. His other, unzipping and pulling. His pants slipping lower down his hips. I moan staggeringly at the sight of him. Engorged, hot and rubbing between my folds. I haven't seen all of him under light and... "_God,_" I writhe and whimper against his in thickness and length in its entirety as his tip slides against wet.

He curls his free hand inside my thigh and we watch him slip deeply inside of me. I can't hold back the choked gasps. He buries his tongue in my mouth. He moves. Hast and hard. I can't catch my rhythm with hands tied. My elbow hitting the counter to brace myself. The sounds of skin slapping and he buries his face on my chest.

"One down," I manage to whisper against his lips. He opens his eyes and slows around my trembling legs. A staggered breath, "You already killed my prom date."

His eyes darken. His sharp teeth finds his bottom lip and he leaves me. Long enough to rush back and take my breath away. And I'm sure if they haven't found us yet, they will now. My cries are loud when he pounds into me.

•—•—••—•

"Last warning," he says from his perch against pillows. His arm is over his eyes laying on his back. He dressed in his pants, boots and the gun halter around his shoulders—sans shirt. "Go put some clothes on," he orders, yet again.

I shift lower over his legs. "M'kay," I mumble. My lips ghosting over his abs. I'm ravenous. A round on the counter and the shower wasn't enough. I sneaked into the latter. Couldn't help it again. _Saving water and all that._

Or maybe I just don't want to think of anything else. Pretending nothing else is going on outside of this bliss of a man is bearable. I bite on the 'v' of his left hip above his pants. His abs flex. _Fucking fabulous abs they are. _I stop to stare for a bit, amazed, as they fill with his every breath. Another nip under his navel to make it do it again.

I may or may not be interrupting his rest while I, apparently, should be getting dressed. I'm half way done with only my white v-neck shirt over my _matching _underwear. _Could you blame me? _I think my only good pair I bought once and never wore, since I had to take the tags off. Can't remember. I wasn't ever the girly type. _I want to kick myself._

So, I might have bend a bit farther to reach for my jeans at the bottom drawer. Or took my time slipping on the bra. And there he was..._not _watching my failing attempts_. _I'm the opposite of the sexy type who seduces and knows how. He just lied there, eyes covered, like it's a normal Tuesday. I gave in and crawled up the bed. _You definitely can't blame me. _I'm set on making a day of this..._ right here. _I palm his semi. The heat there fascinating.

"Swan," he warns. I freeze. Hands in the cookie jar... _or his fly_. I frown. I only got to the button.

"Why? Where are we going? Someone else I need to disown in my family?" He peeks under his arm, knitted brows. I look away. _Definitely want to forget._

"I'm taking you back." He finally speaks after a long moment. My eyes cut to his.

"To the Lab?" He watches me and doesn't respond. I sit up around his legs. Anger stirring in a heart beat. "Over my dead body."

He sighs heavy and drops the arm back over his eyes. "If that's what it takes..."

"I need to find the Berry. That's the whole point..."

"Absolutely not!" he cuts me off with a growl. He sits up on his elbows. His jaw flex. I flinch moving off him towards the end of the bed. My heart speeds with his extremity.

"I wasn't asking permission," I see the right back. My shoulders squared. He doesn't answer and just glares. "You saw the video. You know we have to find it."

He finally speaks, "Carlisle has it under control."

"Oh, really? You think so?" my voice soaked in sarcasm. "And I thought you a genius. You know what he's capable of." He doesn't respond and my courage soars. I press on. "So should I let you lock me up in a dirty basement and wait until he decides to stop shooting up and fucking spies to do something about it?"

His brows knit and... "Shit, you don't even know." I watch him and he doesn't speak. A humourless chuckle as I slip my fingers through my damp hair. I drop them with a slap on my bare thighs to look up. "The redhead, Edward. Remember? _Yes_. It's how Jake found me."

His eyes close briefly. His lips move with a whispered profanity. Anger clear in his face as he looks away.

"I'm not waiting for _him. _I'm not waiting for anyone._"_

"And I'm still not letting you," his eyes cut to mine. "That wasn't part of the deal. I take you to Charlie and we go back." We stare at each other and then I move. I just _move. _

"Fine." I crawl off the bed to finish dressing. _I'll do it myself. _

But his hands are pulling my shoulders before I even touch the floor. He presses me over his chest when he lies back down. I strain to sit up. Mute with consuming anger. I can't even look at him. Never. I can never win. No peace with him.

"Bella," he growls. He holds me down under his arms. "Stop it."

"You are so fucking maddening, you know that? What makes you think you own me? She's my mother! She needs my help! And I'm not going to stand around waiting for a fucking lunatic doctor make decisions! I'm sick of this shit, I'm sick of you and all this bullshit! You don't care and you're not even listening to me right now!" He's not. I rant for nothing because his face is turned away from me, eyes focused wide out the window.

"Bella...shut your mouth," he whispers with a hiss. His hand covers my lips fiercely.

"Dammit, Edward!" I shout, shaking him off. I start to pull away but my spine chills in an instant. Frozen. His hold around me tightens. He pulls an Ivory from under his pillow and points. His bicep straining and bulging as it straightens over the comforter beside me. Vines looping and crawling over his shoulder down his arm. It points the way, to _there..._a shadow of a man.

I scream.

He pulls. Shot after shot and my hands find my ears. Glass shatters and a loud thud. Boots hitting the cement balcony outside.

I'm on the floor under Edward's chest and _so fast_. Gunfire pierces through the walls and glass. Over and over. It doesn't stop.

_They found us._

I look up at Edward. He digs the halter for the other Ivory and kneels above me. His arms leaning on the bed and he shoots. My heart pounding.

Silence.

He drops over me again. His eyes dark and Jade. "This is why I told you to put some fucking clothes on!"

_Oh._

He stands and pulls me up. I look and a lifeless arm hangs over the window threshold. Blood. Black mounds of coats peek in sight under the broken glass. Voices outside far away and boots shuffling on the metal fire escape.

"Go!" he growls. He pulls me to the dresser with a bag I packed and my pants. I grab everything along with his shirt. He pulls me. My back against a wall away from the window. He hides beside me and shoots around the wall. _So loud._

"Shit! Motherfucking shit!" I hop around covering my ears as wood splinters and plaster fly around over the floor and under my feet. _My boots!_ I'm barefoot and they're by the door. I scramble to slip on my jeans and the bag around my shoulders.

Edward pulls back and turns to my side. Magasines slip out from under both guns. Without a thought, I reach into his pant pockets by his knee and find loaded ones. I click them on and cock them at once. He looks at me.

_What? _I shrug.

My eyes shift. Widen. Behind him a figure appears far away. I reach. The small blades he keeps tucked in straps around the halter are the only things I see—not his eyes watching me. I pull one out and...

_Flick. _

A grunt. The man falls. His hand on his neck. Edward looks and finishes him with a single shot. His eyes cut back to me. Surprised. My heart slamming. Adrenaline.

My right shoulder lifts sheepishly with another shrug.

After a shake of his head, he turns to shoot. Silences drifts from the other side of the wall and we have to move. Before I know it, he's pushing me towards the kitchen window. My heart leaps when I find my boots.

"Move, Bella!"

"Ok, ok!" I rush to stuff them in my bag. I watch as he punches the screen and it falls out. I gasp. He grabs me by the waist and sits me on the window sill. My bare feet dangling. A death fall on cement far below. My stomach plummets. "No, no no, no noo!" I shake my head trying to turn back inside. He holds me still. One hand around my wrist and the other on my hip.

"You're _really_ going to hate me now," he whispers, his lips by my ear.

"Don't you fucking dare!" But he does. He dares to do anything.

I scream murder. He drops me and his fist around my wrist is the only thing holding me from a plummeting death. I swing along the outside wall of the building. I see sky and leaves before my scream turns to a choke and freezes in my throat. My eyes squeeze shut.

_Thump. _

Like a rag doll, I roll on a hard surface. He let go when my feet reached another balcony below. Pots of plants shatter around me. "Fuck!" I open my eyes to see Edward swinging off the window sill with one hand. The other pulling the trigger inside my apartment.

_Jesus...he's good._

He manages to pull up his weight and shoot, then drops again. And my God, the sight. Chilling and thrilling all at once. A scarred shirtless beast hanging off a building like its a normal Tuesday... _mountain climbing_. I watch breathlessly. He lifts and drops as many times he needs to until black coats drop out of view. His boots latch onto the building's rough wall. He shuffles his feet to a run. It sets him off to a swing. He looks down at me and I move away to give him space. I flinch. He leaps.

The bastard lands on his feet. _Of course. _His body curls straight to his height and he towers over me. His eyes taking inventory of my state. My mouth opens before it closes again. _He's insane._

"Thanks for the smooth landing." I spit. I hide the gawk plastered on my face.

"I thought you'd enjoy the ride," he responds over his shoulder as he's pulling me. And then my stomach plummets.

He climbs over the balcony ledge and ascends on a metal ladder. We still have far down to go. I look back at the apartment we crashed in, no one, and he yanks me to follow him.

"Hurry," he orders, his fingers curl as he calls. I swing my leg over and climb. And climb. It seems like for miles.

"Argh! This so ridiculous! If I had known one day I'd be chased and killed, _I would've fucking found a first floor apartment!_"

"Just keep your mouth shut and _move_, Swan!" I bite my tongue to keep from lashing out. After all, he is keeping my balance...with his hand on my ass, no less.

We reach a landing and he pulls me off before I finish ascending.

I yelp. My knees hit the surface. Edward covers my body with his when gunshots echo from above. He points and shoots. I choke on a gasp when a limp figure falls passed us and to the ground. Dead.

_Oh God... _

I'm paralyzed. My mind wants to believe it isn't real. That it wasn't a real person crashing on hard ground... breaking. It all becomes too real this very instant.

I see blood on gray pavement before Edward covers my eyes from view. "Just keep moving, alright?" I hold back a sob and just nod.

Tears slip while my shaking hands and legs descend more and more ladders. Fear gripping my throat, I keep silent this time. Edward holds me around my waist, knowing my limbs are unreliable. We finally touch ground and my skin crawls.

"I don't wanna see it...I don't wanna see it..." I chant. I can _feel_ it close by.

"Shh, I know, baby. I won't let you," he says, tucking my face against his scars. "C'mon," and he quickly pulls me away from view of the crimson evidence. We run.

Sounds of barging boots moving around the back of building where we left. They follow us. _There are so many. _Fear grips my chest at the enormity of the moment. What if we don't make it? I wouldn't have made it alone. I find relief surging through his hand, warm in mine. It fights fear away to make room in my chest to breathe. He looks back and our eyes meet for an instant and it only strengthens the feeling.

_He called me baby._

It echoes in my head, shivering from the follicles of my hair to the tips on my bare toes on dirt ground.

The bike comes to view and I breathe a little deeper. Anxiety to get to it faster. But he twists his torso around. He shoots again. _Oh my God, they're that close. _

We reach the black beast and he jumps on. "Bella, you have to do something for me, ok?" I just nod frantically. _Anything..._

"I have to drive so you'll have to shoot. Can you do that?" he says while riving up the motor.

_Anything... but that. _

"Umm..." my voice shaky. But he doesn't stop for my answer. He pulls me over his lap and stuffs the twin in both my hands. He swings my right arm over his head and I rest it on his shoulder. My chest against his heart. He's close when I look at his face.

"You can do this. Just point and shoot, alright? Count," he nods reminding me. His eyes bright and soft. They exude confidence and focus even in chaos. I bite my lip to hold back my panting. I nod. My shoulders square. _Just for him... _He pulls the throttle.

_A video game. This is like a video game, Bella. Just like Halo. _I chant in my head—and fuck yes, am I glad I played simulated games on xbox on Fridays at work. I remember. The guys and the lessons and stupid tournaments playing for hours_. _

Only this is real. _God help us..._

A black SUV charges from afar. Men on foot run towards us from the building. I crouch. They fire and I hear the pops. I breathe when limbs feel intact. "Jesus!" I cry. I shift on his lap and he asks if I'm ok. The SUV comes closer and they aim.

_Oh...I am._ I lift the twin and pull.

_1 - 2 - 3 - 4_

I gasp at the strength. I grip the guns harder. I hit a windshield once and the van swerves. _Holy shit._

A man in shades peeks out of the passenger window, metal gleaming in his hand. His hair blond and light muscular skin—a contrast to his black coat. My eyes widen. I point there.

_5 - 6 - 7 Nothing. _He hides.

"Ah!"

Edward swerves at my scream. "Are you ok?" he shouts beside me.

"It hurts when I shoot!"

"Jesus, Bella! I thought you were hit. Fucking focus!" he yells. His voice in hysterics. I flinch away from his cheek against mine.

"I am_, alright?_" I shout right back by his ear. I keep my eyes on a the vehicle and try to cradle my right hand with my left still occupied. I shoot but nothing. _Shit! They're going to kill us. _I'm jostled when Edward leaps on a curb. I gasp. I nearly drop the gun. It was bad enough watching sitting straight. I'll have to endure this backwards. _God please..._

I yelp. A bullet ricochets off the bike. My arms instantly go to cover Edward's bare back, and head. _As if that'll stop a bullet. _

"Hold on!" he shouts. Car horns and zigzags jostles. He makes a sharp turn and the SUV swerves to catch up. I point. - _9 -_ The blond haired man pulls back. His hand grabs an arm. His face screwed up in pain. My breath hitches.

_I shot a man._

Then it comes to me. I stop with the rushed thought. Never. Never have I failed at a game when I shot a tire off a vehicle. It flips. It turns. It always flies off the road. _Will it do the same? _There's only one way to find out.

My muscles coil and adrenaline rushes. With a hawk's focus, I zone in and aim just where I need it. But my side saddle position doesn't stop Ivory from bouncing aimlessly over his shoulder.

"Edward," I call. His eyes cut to mine for a mere second. "I need to..."

"I'm busy here!" he shouts, interrupting me. His jaw flexes as he jumps obstacles on a busy road. I cower when we merely miss an incoming car to our right. My heart in my throat not knowing what to do.

So, I move. I take the bite as the road smooths out. My nerves forced to hold back just for this moment.

"_What the fuck are you doing?_" he screams beside me. Ballistic. The bike swerves. His shoulders and arms tense. I pull myself back to sit over the gas tank. I stretch an arm behind me to brace myself on a handle. My hair whirling all angles. But in a break of a lock of hair, I catch a glimpse of his wide eyes and lips parted as he cuts his eyes to my legs and back at the road. He tries to stop me, letting go of a handle, but it goes back to stabilize. "Shit, shit, shit!" he growls. His teeth sharp peering between blood red lips. His pressure rising and Jade eyes darkening.

Slowly, I slip a leg on his other thigh and begin my descend over his lap again. I straddle him. Scoot by scoot. Inch by inch. Sliding on the slick rumbling metal beneath me. My bare feet an advantage as I use my toes and heels to pull myself with his hips and bare back.

"_Fuck..._" His breath gets caught in his throat. I more feel it than hear it when it vibrates through his chest against mine, his throat on my shoulder. _I made it. _I exhale the shaky breath I was holding. My arms wrap completely around his shoulders. The straps of the halter providing comfort. _Yes. _Exactly what I need. I shift my bottom further in to find a curve for comfort.

_And boy, do I find one..._

He groans. My ear on his cheek when I hear and... _Oh my shit._

I can't help the gasp coming out of me. I turn my cheek to look at his profile. Dark hazy eyes. Sharp jaw. Flush.

_Really?_

My face drains. Prickles down my spine, straight between my legs. _Jesus... this man will be the death of me. _I look away and focus on an SUV far away and catching up again. I grin, a bite of my lip. _And who says I can't be sexy? _I shift my hips just to fuck with him. _I'll get to that in a second. _But for now...

My shot stable, clear and open. I wait. It rushes closer. I close an eye and squint through the centimeter eye-hole on the top of an Ivory. The barrel swaying in a sideways figure eight. And there... at the center point when it makes a pass, the tire appears.

_BANG._

Screeching. Deafening. My head shoots up as I straighten when the SUV tips off its axes. It swerves on two wheels. Edward tenses under me. He chances a look back. Profanities from his lips in surprise.

I soar. I watch the driver fight to keep it still but fails. Crashing metal and shattered glass on an expressway gravel. Horns and cacophony of breaks halting behind it. The black predator flips on a grassy ditch pass the brake down lane. Creaking, rocking and steam and _motherfucking yes! _

I watch other cars swerve just at the nick of time to a safe lane. No one hurt or scathed.

My head falls back and I look at the blue calm sky around my billowing hair. My shoulders dropping. _So this is how it feels to be triumphant? Never in my life..._ I bask in the thrill. It flows through my skin and bones... as do the warm lips skimming over my flushed cheek.

I look down at him. My panting hurried. "I did it! I did it, I did it!" I scream above the roaring beast under us.

"You did," he agrees calmly. A full smile forming over his whole mouth. I watch the expression I've never seen painted on him. His fiery bright hair falling over his forehead and back again. I love it. Every inch of him. Flawed, infuriating and all. I hold him tighter around his neck.

He looks up from the road and kisses me. I sink deeper into him from the unexpected. My insides twitch, running my fingers through his hair. I breathe him in for a second before his lips pull away deliciously. "Good girl," he whispers.

And I _love_, more than anything, when he says that.

—•—••—•

They say memories are triggered strongly through a scent. The old familiar smells and warmth cloaks my prickled skin. It does. Subconsciously my body wants to launch itself into the couch and veg. Lounge like I did after school in piles of homework. To walk in the kitchen and raid the fridge for a glass of milk. Drag my feet up to my room and lie sprawled on my bed to keep reading my book that was_ just_ getting to the good part on the train over. All of it... like I used to.

It was so different then.

My foot is uneasy stepping through a window of my old house. The front door not welcoming anymore. The walls close in and everything seems smaller. I try to breathe.

The last time I was here, Charlie didn't believe me. I walked away afraid. The horrible feeling of knowing that my rock was not steady at all. It had turned to sand, trickling through my fingers. He didn't help me.

So, I'll help myself.

"Where would you hide something you didn't want anyone to find?" I whisper. Edward steps in behind me. He looks around, his eyes thinking.

_Putty in my hands. _I guess this is my reward for turning the SUV over... and for the boner inducing stunt I pulled, one or the other_._ _Must be the latter. _My lips curl in giddily. He looks at me. I sober. The anger in his eyes is still visible for making him come here. It's dangerous.

"In plain sight," he stiffly answers.

I blink. I scan the living room and nod. He's right. It wouldn't be surprising if Charlie hid it in a mundane object to make it unlikely. He knows I'm trying to find it now. "What if he moved it?" I ask while touching the picture frames on a table behind the sofa. A seeping sadness through my fingertips from the happy faces that look like a different family. I feel like a stranger in my own home.

"He wouldn't. He can't risk someone seeing," he murmurs behind me, startling me. He steps closer and I feel his shirt against my arm. I look up and he's staring over my shoulder at the frame in front of me as I hold another of my parents. _Me_. I grow a blush. It's too embarrassing. I was in a middle school photo, clad in a ponytail, braces and sitting in front of the _awesome_ fifteen dollar blue and purple laser background. _Can't believe I begged for that._

With a quickness, I reach to slam it face down on the wooden surface. He stops me and pulls it away. My stomach plummets. _Oh my God. _My same desperately erratic quick hand reaches for the frame again. He holds it arms length. Mortified, I swivel to reach but his free hand curls around my nape. His brows furrow when he looks at me...like it was rude of me to pull it away. _Seriously? _Pull out an Ivory and shoot me.

How did this go from a dangerous break-in to a walk down embarrassing memory lane?

He looks and I can't breathe again. I sigh annoyed. But when I flicker my lids up at his face, I see a smirk. His thumb skims my face over the glass in quiet amusement. He puts it down and looks at me. And just like that I melt again.

He gazes. His smirk faint but his eyes dark in wonder. He mimics the trace over my cheek with a single finger. "A dork. Just as I suspected," he whispers. His index touches my nose.

I roll my eyes and push him away. _Such a jerk this guy... _Can't even hide my blush. His arm curls around my waist before I walk away. His chest against my back. "But still as beautiful," he murmurs. I inhale sharply. A blink. His lips by my ear sending tingles down my spine as they skim my neck. I blush fiercely. A hand dips over my belly to press me closer to him. My insides curl. _Geez._ Right between my legs.

_Baby and Beautiful. All in one day. _

This is so unlike him.

I turn my head and brushed lips. A wave of tingles. Pulling and feverish when I taste him. And I don't care that he's probably trying to distract me because I'm surrounded by Charlie again. It works...because I just want to finish what I started on the bike. But he pulls away. Like nothing, he walks through the room.

"Let's go. We don't have time." A sigh. My shoulders drop.

I follow him, putting the wedding picture of mom and dad back in its place. Uneasy, I go back to fix them and put them exactly where they sat. A mere detail Charlie will notice. I know it. My whole childhood here and I have to leave it behind for another life.

He taps around the walls listening for a hollow place. He asks if there's any hiding places or safes i know about. I don't. I grow weary. I look in shelves for photo albums. Maybe there's something there I never noticed. A picture of them wherever they met. Unlikely. I give up and rummage through cabinets. Edward flips picture frames and kneels to open the back of the TV. He leaves it broken and open and moves to the father clock on the corner. _So much for keeping things intact._

How do you find something when you don't know what it looks like?

Helpless, I watch. He uses a familiar blade to slice through openings. Heat rises over my cheeks. The same one I took from him and held it to his neck that day. _Damn, I had balls. _Now, I would never have the guts watching the man in front of me. Rough, tall, straining hard muscles to open locks and panels. He has more ideas than looking through pointless drawers and under sofa pillows.

"Bella, the office," he says without looking up. _Oh. Right. Of course._ I move and leave him to break things. I hesitantly turn the knob of the door right off the living room. It's unlocked. My lids flutter. Brows knit when I notice a light flash and disappearing in a blink. Instantly my heart speeds. Something doesn't feel right.

Nothing moves for a while as I wait. I look back at Edward and he's still busy. I chance it. I push the door open where I stand. The hinges squeak.

I was never familiar with this room. Charlie would push me out when I wandered in. He said he had too much important work files he didn't want touched. Since it was forbidden, I took it as a goal to break in and see what the hell he was hiding. There was nothing but just awards, certificates and pictures that adorned his walls. Floor to ceiling windows and a grand TV. I got bored eventually.

It doesn't look the same as I remembered. Monitors line the far wall across from a new sleek modern desk. The floor to ceiling windows provided a view of the woods out back still, but the sleek squared black couches sitting in front of them are new. Cascading lights set a glow over the big space. White. It looks like a different world in here from the rest of the house. A battle station.

I walk through the double doors and instantly my heart stops. So many things at once and I'm frozen. The glossy floor illuminates as I walk over it. Like a spreading glow that pulses alive under my weight. Step by step. The room lighting grows a darker hue of blue as I go.

I hold my breath for any noise or movement. Silence.

My breathing staggers when I turn. In front of the large desk the crest Mike and I found so long ago gleams in a shiny black. The monitors flicker alive and the image spins to a stop on a computer generated moving image of a cerebral. It displays detailed veins, human tissue and muscles. The curves of a brain in an x-ray. And it has my face.

My blood runs cold.

"Edward," I barely get it out. Crashing sounds from the living room and footsteps. He heard. His haste heavy boots stop abruptly in the hallway between rooms. I look over my shoulder to find his face.

Shell shocked. His lips parted as he looks in with arms slightly raised at his sides. He looks at me. His face drained of color in an instant.

This isn't good. I see his face and this isn't good. My heart pounds and I hear my pulse. Never, in the months that I've known him, have I seen his face like this.

"It was unlocked. I swear I didn't do anything. I saw a light flash and that was it. I...I don't even remember it like this," I explain hurriedly. He doesn't respond. "Edward?" I call to him. I take a step to walk back to him. The lights turn to a fluorescent deep blue.

"Don't...move...an inch," he hisses. His arms raise to stop me.

My breathing chopped. Fear knots my throat when I see above me. I know the reason why he's acting like this. My eyes cut to the odd mechanic hanging from the wall above the doors. Long barrels appear to look like guns. And they're pointing straight at me.

"Oh God," I whimper.

"They're programmed. Anything that moves over the lit floor it follows," he explains in a slow hushed tone. "When the blue lights turn red...they'll go off."

"Shit, _Shit!_ I...I didn't know. I'm sorry!" I suppress a sob. I came all this way and my former father will still get his way. "Oh God, I'm gonna die...I'm gonna die. It's over...I'm gonna die... God, I don't want to die. Please, I don't..." my head spins in a rambling tangent. My nails dig into clenched fists. All my muscles tense just knowing I _need _to keep still. Sweat runs down my nape. My limbs shake. _This is it._

"Quiet, Bella! I need to think," he seethes.

"Seriously? Is that what you're going to say right now? Before I die?" I shout. Panic growing to anger. "You fucking sent me in here!"

"And you fucking dragged us here!" he growls. His voice billowing through walls in an ear splitting echo. I start.

I don't respond. A tear slips. He sighs heavily. I can't see him but I know his fingers are fisting his hair. _He's so right. _This is all my fault. _Mine._ No one else's.I'll die and I'll never get to tell him how much I love him...how much I owe him my _life_. How he's the only one left in it. Everything for Renee will die in vain. All the struggling and running...wasted. Nothing.

"Look at me," he says softly, as if he hears my thoughts. I shake my head, feeling foolish. I don't want to. I feel weak when a loud sob leaves my throat. I swallow it right back. "Dammit, Swan, _look at me_."

I sniff and turn my neck slowly. His eyes almost white with the reflective fluorescent light. _And God, I want to run to him. _

"You are not going to die," he shakes his head pleading, knitted brows, "I'm not going to let you... And I do have a lot to say. But it won't be today because you are not dying _today_."

I nod after a long pause. His words aching in my chest. He never leaves my eyes. "Ok," I barely whisper.

"Ok," he nods.

"Ok," another nod of mine. My lips quiver. I inhale deeply to hold back a stupid cry. I'm embarrassed for flipping out. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Just listen to me." I nod, sniffling. "See those switches on the desk?" I look. A dashboard like panel sits on the far left of the desk. I nod. "One of those disables it. There's exactly ten feet from the door to the desk, enough time to switch it off before the lights go red."

"How..." I shake my head. "How do you know?"

"The wall here is warm. The wires run through it." His hand runs over the wall outside the doors where I can't see. "Whoever installed it wasn't so smart about it," he explains while crouching. His hand skims the threshold to the bottom, in thought. He pauses. "Unless, I'm completely wrong and they're just there to switch on the TVs." I cut my wide eyes to him.

"_What?_"

His hands lift along with his eyebrows, "That was a joke." I gawk. _Oh my god. _He jokes. _Fucking jokes._

"So fucking inappropriate," I turn around mumbling. "First time he jokes and a gun is pointed at my head. Unreal..._unreal_." I pull at my hair on my crown while he chuckles. _Chuckles. _A deep velvet sound at the back of his throat. _The nerve. _

"No, this is... fucking wonderful," I huff. My arms cross over my chest.

"Are you calm now?" he asks after a long moment. Amusement still lingering in his voice.

"Oh, I'm sitting on a rainbow, skittles popping out. Rays of sunshine," I spit through a humorless chuckle. I wipe my streaked face angrily. _Asshole._

"Good," he replies. His voice going deathly serious and cold. "Because I'll need you focused when I tell you to jump on the desk on the count of three. Ready?"

"What?"

"One."

"Wait, are you insane? It's too far. I can't..." I point. Look back at him and he's dead serious. Anger makes my vision go crimson.

"Two."

"WHICH ONE IS IT?" I yell. My limbs shaking with adrenaline. "I don't even know which one to switch!"

"Three."

"EDWARD!" I turn. I loose my balance. My left leg shoots out to stop me. The floor illuminates. I gasp.

Purple.

Fluorescent lights morph. Blue and Red makes Purple. _Red is next. _My heart stops. Widened brown eyes fixed on darkened Jades. A plump vein on his forehead rises as his body coils and stands from his perch. Fear is palpable when everything stops and I hear it faintly but true...

Sirens.

_Charlie. _

"They're coming..." a strained gasp.

"Now, Bella!" he orders.

I jump.

"Argh!" my knees bang on sleek steel. I slip off the side. I shoot out an arm to hold on. I pull. My abdomen scratching on the crest and over the edge. With a grunt, I reach. My fingers wiggling. The shiny switches just mere inches away.

Red.

I scream.

Shot after shot, the cacophony is ear splitting. With every ounce of strength in me, I push to reach. My palm slaps all the switches the opposite way.

"Fuck!" Edward shouts. I look back. His biceps straining and pushing. Struggling.

He's under the door frame on his back. The twins in his hands as he was shooting the mounted guns from underneath. But metal doors are closing in. I cry out for him as heavy sliders appear from either side. His torso, inches from being crushed.

A panic room.

I glimpse at the mounted shredded guns. _Gone_. So I run. I scramble to my feet to get to him. Step by step the floor brightens under my boots. He's pushing at a door on his side, the twin still in hands. The other slider pushing against his back.

Sirens grow louder outside. My heart in my throat. "Edward!" I shout. But when I pull at his wide shoulders, nothing. My fingers slip, barely getting a grip under the coiled muscles. He's grunting. His face red. Veins erect over his neck and arms. The door mechanics grunt and squeal under his force. I watch, horrified and...

_There is no fucking way he's dying. _

Something snaps in me. From my middle, to my legs and through my arms, I feel a jolt of strength. In a death grip under his arms, I pull. I fall back as he slides in, slipping over the slick floor. His knees bend. He shuffles his legs to fit through the thinning wedge. I pull him until I see speckles of lights blind me behind closed lids.

_BANG._

The doors lock. I let go with a heave.

We're panting, sprawled on the floor. Edward's weight completely over me. He moves. He heaves on his side. And for a moment, all we hear is sirens closing in. He turns on his stomach and looks at me. His hands frantically moving my hair away from my glistening face. Inspecting me, they move over my neck and chest to my abdomen. Dizzy, I just lie there through a fluttering gaze.

"Bella," he gasps. "Oh, God..." he whispers.

I can't speak. I try to lift my head but a sharp pain burns my side. He kneels above me. His face blocks the blinding white lights. _No more Red. _I cough around a forming grin. _We did it. _Tears leak over my temples.

He lifts a hand and I see. _Red._ It follows me. The color that stains my life. I cough and taste blood just then. Copper spilling over my lips.

Loud sirens wail to a stop. I hear car doors closing. Daylight beams through the windows, brightening Edward's haunted eyes. _I love his eyes. _

"You're hit," he says breathlessly.

"No," I shake my head, "No, no... I'm fine," I assure him. I cup his cheek and _more Red._ He looks up at loud bangs and footsteps. I watch my blood smear on his cheek and neck. I pull away. My trembling fingers blurry and soaked. My heart sinks. _I failed him._

"Bella," he whispers. His brows sour and his face pale. Sadness seeps in when I look at him. He leans closer to me. I close my eyes as tears fall and my chest convulses in a sob. Pain. _I failed him. And mom...and everyone. _They're going to take me away and they'll kill him. I'll never see him again. Bangs and bolts on the metal doors outside are proof. It's over.

I cry as his lips are warm against my cheek. "I love you... _so much_," I say it, with all my strength. I don't care if he rejects it or doesn't feel the same. He needs to know. Because this is the only right thing I can give him for all the wrong he's fixed in my life.

—•—••—•

* * *

**A/N ok, I admit it. My eyes got teary a lil while writing *blushes*. What do you think? Good? No? **

**So I was thinking, since I feel confident now that this story is going where I want it to go and has morphed into something I NEVER in a million years thought it would (because of your support) and NOW I'm less self-conscious about it/my writing, I don't feel ashamed anymore with the amazing fics out there that are better—can you do me a favor? SHARE THE SHIT OUT OF THIS PUPPY. LOL. Tell your friends about it. Whatever you want. You share it...because it's caring. And I'd greatly appreciate it!**

**Thanks to those who have and let me know through Reviews. I READ THEM ALL AND SMILED. And I'm sorry I didn't reply. It gets harder and harder. But srsly, know that I read them all and love them. I see you adding. Thank you! **


	21. Chapter 20: Fury

**A/N: Ummm, yeah. If you read my profile messages you know i've had surgery and RL has just pretty much sucked. But let's move on. Timeline to the end has been outlined. The end is soon. I promised I would finish this fic. Just remember, with all your might when reading: _Have a little faith in me._**

**Happy Halloween. Go read.**

**Beta Beige, Vantastic, SM, you are all like finding Twilight on cable TV and falling asleep to the sounds of Robward speaking. You're THAT good. Thanks for your patience through out all this craziness.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — Between my teeth.**

—•—•—•

_**Sound: Fever Ray - Keep the streets empty for me.**_

—•—•—•

**Chapter 20 - Fury**

Fury. At my simple words. Words meant for a key you never knew locked your heart to crumble, melt, dissipate...to make space for breathing, hope and happiness..._love._ But its not what I see. Not anywhere in his eyes that look at me.

Fury. And nothing else.

I die a little inside. My lungs give way. Every breath threatening its last. But then I breathe again. Convulsions of sobs are threatening and giving all at once. Because it means I get to breathe again. I get to live for another breath. To see him and not leave him. He stays even when my lids close and open again.

I watch him. And fury.

For an instant I regret my simple words. They weren't simple after all. They seemed to have wounded. Sent him far away from me. Body, mind and soul. It unlocked the wrong key. Of memories and hate. Of those same words uttered to him and then taken away when he needed them most. He doesn't trust simple words, not since he was young. I can see it in his eyes. He doesn't want me. I heave.

Pain. For him. For me. The only feeling that grounds the moment to reality. A tense room that wants to be broken in by thieves. Thieves who will take away beautiful eyes and take away me.

I can feel it bleeding. Red streams out from a bullet wound that not even he could've stopped. Such a small hole that makes tragedy and makes weakness. Wasting away. It's leaving and with it my will to live. I give up. This is too much.

Though, I cannot, for the little life in me, stop. My lips move and they are on their own. They live on as my insides die. _I love...love...love you. I'll always love you._

Fury. And I cry. No answer to simple words from jade eyes.

"No," he utters. "You don't get to say that."

"But...I do."

"No. Not today. _Not ever_," he seethes. He looks down at red. Silence between us as shouts tremble outside. He rips his shirt off his shoulders. Scarred skin I'll never seen again. All of him. He presses it to my side. But its no use. I'll die soon. I look for his eyes and they evade me.

"Run," bloody words from my lips. I choke and heave again.

His lips purple. Jaw set to cut. Plump veins. "Stop it." His teeth grinding.

"Leave. They'll kill you." But he doesn't respond. I cough and more blood. His palm tips my face to the side. Red running down my cheek. The taste rancid and warm, foreign and frightening. He wipes it away.

"I don't...want you here. Just leave!" I cry out as fiercely as I can. Anger mixing with fear. I look at him from the corner of my watery eyes. "Dammit, just..._please!_"

My eyes roll back. I choke in a gasp. "Enough!" he shakes me. Menacing eyes when he pulls me from my shirt collar. I whimper with the strength of his balled fist under my chin. _Fury_. His pale face close to mine and cheeks trembling with gritted teeth. "You're not going to die, alright? Not if I fucking allow it!" he blinks, his knitted brows. A shake with each of his words.

Silence between us. Just heavy swallows and faint whimpers from my drowning throat. I watch him go undone. Trembling in flushed skin and heavy pants. Rage.

I reach. To calm him. To bring him back from the darkness in his eyes. With just my lips seeking his. A warm brush and I kiss. I slip away with the effort to keep him close. A whimper. But I reach again, despite his tensing jaw and shoulders. A taste of the soft cleft of his lip. Pleading.

_I will always remember these lips._

I feel it. The layers and fear reluctantly melting away. An exhale from his flared nostrils. A blink. Another kiss. The full bottom. The corner. Every inch oh his full lips. They part. And I kiss his quivering chin. But never, not once, does he kiss me back. I die a little more inside.

"You will die if you stay. Please...just go."

He looks at me. Sadness in his eyes filling with a blurry glaze. He inhales with a strain. His chest constricting. Fury fading away.

"I love you. I..._love you..._so much. And I don't want you to die. Please...you've done so much for me. Just one thing for you." I graze his lips with mine.

But nothing. Banging on doors that shut the world out. It's loud and angry. A panic room that lets you out but doesn't let anyone in. I don't want to think beyond it. They'll find the way in and it'll be over soon. My offer still stands in the tense air between us. And fury rushes in his eyes again.

"No," he simply says. He pulls away. Done and settled. The death of me.

I cry. A loud sob when he pulls me up in his arms. My head falling back. So mad. _So mad at him... _Anger and a gritted teeth growl from my chest to my throat.

He moves me to the long couch. I beg him to _please_ but he ignores me. He kneels and reaches in a slit of his gun halter. A clear pill. Nervously, he slips off the plastic pouch. I've never seen his hands trembling, stained with my blood. I watch with tears still streaming down my face as his remains focused.

I yelp. We look up and the wall shakes with a bang beside the doors. They try every possible way to get in. Edward turns. "Swallow this. It'll stop the bleeding. Hurry," he orders. He stuffs his finger in my mouth. I choke. Blood fills it and I can't. "C'mon, Swan," he pleads. He pulls back and dips my face over the couch. I spit red, staining a shiny floor beside his knee.

He tries again and this time I manage to pull it to the back of my tongue. I wonder how many times he's had to take a pill like this when he was on his own.

He stands and rushes into the bathroom connected to the room. I breathe. My eyes drift closed. Breathing is all I can do, as he brakes and moves things around, doing god knows what.

But the haunting bangs I hear go straight to my nerves. I lie here and listen.

They're like monsters clawing their way into my bedroom, my nightmares. But this is real. And the monster is Charlie. More warm tears run down my cheeks when I hear a shout, an order from a familiar voice. _Him._

He has become the villain to the story of my life. His voice not soothing or fitting like it used to be in this house. My old sanctuary. He is death and destruction. _How will we get out of this?_ I want so badly for Edward to run. But he won't.

He appears from the dark bathroom. A silver roll of tape in his stained hands. He pulls a large piece off the duck tape and rips it with sharp teeth.

I grunt. He lifts his shirt away from my side. His face falls, furrowed brows.

With a trembling thumb he skims the flesh around it. Whipping red away. I whimper. Reaching for his fingers, I squeeze them fiercely to stop him from touching further. My eyes roll back. His jaw falling slack, watching. He exhales. His stained fingers run through his hair, streaking the copper strands.

He hurriedly presses piece after piece over the wound on my side. His nimble fingers smoothing wrinkles away over my bare abdomen.

I cry out. Loud. In excruciating pain. Like knives stabbing, like wire twisting, like acid boiling in my open skin with every pass of his fingers. I stop screaming because it chokes. My body freezing in a held gasp. Beyond pain. Yet, he's quiet. Firm and focused, never failing—but for his trembling hands. He doesn't look at me. His attention at the doors and back at his hands. _Like I've never said a thing. _It angers me.

"Bella!"

My skin crawls. Charlie's terrorizing call is muffled just behind the wall, seemingly far away. But I hear it.

I blink up at Edward after taking long breaths. His fury blazing through his eyes.

But suddenly nothing matters. I look at what is passed him and my eyes widen, "Ed...Edward..." I didn't see the floor to ceiling windows illuminated behind him. Blues, purples and greens. A pass code blinks, asking to be logged in over the glass like a monitor. He looks back.

We sit frozen. Watching in wonder. Thoughts of secrets and answers of questions existing beyond the blinking form-field filter through my mind. Hopes of fulfilling all of Mom's pleads to help her, bubble up inside my wounded body. _The Berry. _Strength creeps in like a beam of light through my veins. _What if everything we need is all there...just waiting?_

"Go," I push on Edward's shoulder weakly with a stained hand. He reacts, scrambling to his feet. He runs to a dashboard on a slim pedestal between the sleek black single leather couches.

The monitor glitches and blinks. Beeps sound with every graze on glass keys from his insistent fingers. Nothing. A pass code is needed. The light blue glowing lines making the graphic grid turn deep blue.

"Shit," he murmurs. The morphing colors are equal to the sensitive floor beneath us. He stops trying before it locks. Or worse, activate another gun. He lifts the dashboard off the pedestal searching for a loophole, a wire, anything. The graphic blinks unfazed waiting to be interfered. His shoulder blades and muscles tense with every hurried shuffle.

My insides tense the same with hope and desperation. _We have to...we have to get the Berry now or never._

I follow the tip of his index skimming a flat surface. He stops. Realization makes his shoulders drop faintly.

My eyes widen and I strain my neck to see better. My side still burning but I will to ignore it.

"What is it?"

He leans on open palms over the pedestal glass with his back to the giant monitors. He stares at the boxed device. Defeat.

Not good.

"Jesus, what...?"

"Blood," he interrupts. I blink. He doesn't look up. "The pass code is a drop of his blood."

"Shit, shit shhhhhit..." We can't win. I'll die here, _he'll _die here and we'll get nothing out of this. All for nothing. My head falls back on the couch.

I flinch. A hiss. He looks up when I squirm. The wound. A piece of plaster falls off the wall, taps and rolls off my middle onto the couch. The first piece of inevitable destruction they have started outside.

I watch as it tumbles off the couch and onto the floor. The banging from the other side has heightened. Vibrations fills the void of our silent thoughts. Waiting. Knowing it'll all be over.

_His blood is an impossibility. Never._

Rushed thoughts of pounding my way out of this room and ending his life, making him pay for all he's done. Thoughts of sending Edward to take an Ivory and let him do what he has wanted for so long. Revenge. For me. All for just a drop of blood. A single drop.

I watch the white plaster soak in a small pool of red on the floor. Its chalk fibers fill like micro sponges.

My brows knit. "Does it have to be _his _or one like it?" I pause. I feel him look up at me, his eyes boaring into my bowed head. "One that's maybe the same blood type? One that's...unfortunately related?"

He moves. He runs. He's kneeling in front of me in a matter of seconds. I feel him before I see him. His long middle finger dips into the red pool with the tip and its all he needs from the mess I've made. I follow with an unfocused gaze.

"It wouldn't kill to try," I look up at him. His eyes empathetic. They say enough without words. "Though, it already has," I whisper. He looks away. Clearly not wanting to hear it. Fury threatens to come back through his tense jaw.

He slowly stands to his full height above me. Thundering bangs from outside slows with his every stride. A rhythm that vibrates through my nerves, making anticipation unbearable as I watch him go.

He bends. His bicep tensing slightly, reaching. His hands still trembling slightly. Enough to force him to aim right. The dashboard mere inches away, waiting to accept the drip sliding off his finger.

And I pray. Anything. _Please, God. Just one thing right._

A mute drip.

Like a thousand knives to my heart. Silence envelopes us, the room, our breathing. Even Charlie stops.

Nothing. Not a beep. An unclick. Or a signal of victory as Edward watches, brows knit, wiping his finger off his pants.

_Of course. Stupid of me._

I blink away to stare at the ceiling. I grow weak with lazy lids. I inhale with a start to a silent cry. Hot tears roll down to my hair under my clenched fist.

_Stupid, stupid me. _I hate hope. It fails when I need it most.

"Bella."

No. I don't want to look at him. I can't. I ignore him.

I shake my head. "Why don't you just leave? Just get the hell out of here!" I'm angry. I heave with a painful cough. Fucking blood. Fucking hope. The tension rolling of him is palpable when I hear him take a step towards me, but stops.

I swallow down more bitter blood, "This is my bullshit. Not yours. You don't need to stay." A weak whisper, "It's what you want. _I'm_ not what you want. I've just...dragged you into all this... _shit_," I wipe away angry tears, "It's enough. You can stop pretending to care. You don't have to do this anymore. You should go."

I wound him. Deeper than my wound. Because I will die. Because I feel foolish. It hurts when he didn't say anything back to my stupid words. Regret of my stupid mouth.

Silence. He stares at me. Shooting daggers is more like it. I feel them. Piercing my skin again. I don't give in. I won't look at him. He has to live. Because if the bullet won't kill me the guilt will. He's done beyond enough. Killed for me. Risked his life for me. Stole my heart from me...No more.

"Dammit, just fucking go already!" I cover my face, a sob, "God..."

"Get up,"

I tense. His foot falls are determined, haste. I gasp when he's beside me before I can uncover my face. Fury. And now I really shouldn't look at him. I ball my fists to my eyes harder afraid of what I'll see.

"Get up!" this time he hisses with laced panic.

I scream. I stagger to my feet when he pulls me. The pain stabs through my side like a bolt. I graze the floor with the toes of my boots across the room, pressed against his chest.

_Crash._

My spine arches at the ripping sound behind me. I gasp. His cheek against my face. His arm around my waist, one shields the crown of my head. I stand on unsteady toes holding onto him..._and this isn't where I should be_. His scent. His skin. The scar underneath my lips. I hide in his neck.

I peek behind me and I can't look again. Right where I was and where a piece of wall now sits.

_Oh, God..._ _Again_ he saves me.

We stand there listening to the raucous still moving outside. Men shouting over heavy footfalls. Metal on metal screeching trying to drill their way inside. Terrifying.

_Soon. _I shiver.

His chest fills and falls against mine and not a word is uttered. I whimper because the pain is all I have to overpower the feel of his shoulder cradling me. _I really shouldn't be in his arms. _I can't let him just sweep me off my feet, literally, time after time.

I take a staggering breath burying my face against his throat. Fear makes me want to crawl into him and hide. But he can't protect me anymore. Not from this. _He should go._

"I know how it feels..." My lids flutter open at the feel of his voice on my lips. "The pain," he continues. Despite the roaring cacophony around us, he sounds eerily calm. I look up at him. His unblinking gaze fixed on the trembling doors. His heart beats close to mine, steadily. His breathing light and fanning down my neck. I flinch when his fingers ghosts over the tape on my side. And I know what he means.

My legs grow weak and buckle. I can't fill my lungs right. My head lulls to one side of his shoulder from the weakness. Pale. The blood still seeping out of me.

_Yes. The pain._ He holds me.

"I've felt it countless times, I forget. For nothing. For Carlisle's orders. It didn't matter and I didn't care," he breathes, shaking his head. I feel his lips by my ear. I'm frozen. "So, tell me why should I leave now when it matters the most to me?" he asks. His calm words suddenly laces with a venomous sneer.

I gasp, choking on a whimper. I grip his shoulders for support when he lifts me. I can't think. His words strike deeply. The pain the same. He carries me. My tears won't stop. They come now with added purpose, mixing with red drops I cough up. Down my cheeks and over his skin. _His words._ I wince.

With all the grace and gentleness he musters, he deposits me on a couch by the pedestal. I slump. My chin quivering when he crouches by my knees to settle his soaked shirt around my side.

"Don't fucking tell me what I don't care for or want." Like acid. He looks at me. I look down at my limp bloody hands over the tape.

I feel like shit.

Tingles in my belly flutter with hope at his confession. That's the closest he'll ever get to saying simple words back. I'll take it. _Anything._ But I've hurt him. A man with a shell tougher than cement could possibly find offense so deeply. But his eyes give him away. The windows to his true feelings.

I open my mouth to apologize. To say anything to make his jaw relax and eyes lighten. I've hurt him and I can't undo it.

I look away. Ashamed. Still, he watches me. Fury back to play. I hate it. He stands and I've never felt him farther away.

"It worked," he murmurs. I peak through my lashes at him. His eyes towards the monitor. I follow his gaze.

_Oh my God, it did work. _It's what he meant to say before I interrupted, spewing hate and insults. _Stupid._

A lift of my head is all I can manage. The graphics fill the space like a web of information. Files, images of people, descriptions running below them. Everywhere.

My adrenaline spikes when I glance at him. He's typing furiously on the keyboard.

Images morph open to reveal more information. Codes run through transparent windows. He knows what he's doing.

"Rose," he calls. Instantly a scratchy image of her sharpens. She appears, it seems, out of thin air.

"Give me a fucking good reason not to crash our link right now," she spits. Her anger visible in her perfectly groomed brows. Not a welcoming hello at all.

"Fuck. I can't explain now. I need..."

"Morals? Loyalty lecture? A brain?"

"...a little help."

"Edward Masen needs help?" her voice turns sweet and conniving all at once. She swivels on her chair and crossed her arms.

"Rose."

Her gaze turns my direction, "Let me guess. Her fault? Couldn't have been you." I squirm, and try to look away with a bobbing unsteady head. I'm short of breath. Glistening skin and dry lips. The loss of blood must look obvious on my face when she tilts her head. The blood stains giving it all away. I must look closer to death than alive. "You'd rather stab one or your own than have her get hurt," she mocks.

I wince. Her intent obviously referring to our fight in the woods.

"Carlisle is beyond enraged. We've had to deal with him all thanks to you. My advice? Stay and die."

Edward sighs. He pulls at his hair. "Stop wasting fucking time! I need someone here, now!"

She shrugs around her arms crossed after a long moment. "From us? Are you sure? You seemed to have made your choice." No one speaks. His fists clench until his knuckles go white. "I just sent them out, Masen. You didn't exactly give me time. What did you expect?" she finally relents.

Edward looks down. He inhales deeply and holds it in. His hands wrap around his nape as he leans on his knees. He tries to keep his composure but it's not working.

It'll be too late. They won't make it on time. He knows it. I know it. The men's shouts outside grow louder as proof.

Edward looks back at the door. His anxiety shows in his eyes and his clenched fists over his knees where he sits. He turns back.

"I need documents. At least comb the server and download all heavy files," he orders dismissively.

"If I could, I would by now," she sneers, "You insult me."

He sighs running a hand over his eyes. "Fuck."

"You're on your own."

"What do I do?"

"Not gonna say."

"Dammit, Hale!"

She laughs.

He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. An awkward silence spreads between them. He looks back at the door again. They're growing louder. The door budges. My breath hitches. They're desperate.

"I'll give you the Aston," he says with a strain. He blinks as if the words were knives scratching his throat all the way up.

She leans in. Her eyes grow wide and sobers again. She's interested but hides her surprise. She clears her throat and settles on a hard look again.

"You worship her," she murmurs incredulously. Disgusted. My eyes flicker to him and back at her. A flush over my sickly pale face. And this is the second time I see red rush up his neck... that isn't do to anger.

"Deal." With that she gets to work. I hear and see her fingers typing away on her glass keys.

Edward stands and paces. He turns towards the doors and watches. Another budge. The crease between the doors cracks a millimeter wider. He reaches for an ivory we left on the floor, and then the second. He checks them for ammo and slips them into his halter. His arm muscles coil with tension. He's planning. His mind working a mile a second. I see it in his eyes flickering over the walls and the ceiling.

I sigh when his pacing wanders to my side. His fingers blindly seeking me and skimming my damp cheek. My eyes roll back to my head. The blood loss is weakening me by the second. I've never felt life slipping out of me like this. You have no control. You can't hold on to it. It's terrifying.

He looks down at me and I stare back in his jade eyes through drooping lids. His brows knit, jaw set. There's nothing he can do but wait. He knows it. I know it too. But its not like him. It itches him. Makes him uncomfortable. He wants to _do _and _move. _But he can't.

His warm fingers wander from my cheek to my neck. My eyes flutter close. He feels for my pulse but hides it with a caress, but i know. A minute passes, glancing at his black watch on the same hand, he pulls away. His eyes say it's not good. I know, I feel my heart slowing too. After he rearranges his soaked shirt at my side, he turns away.

"I can't rip the files. I'm restricted. He has a wall. You'll need to do it yourself." Rose turns to the screen, "Find something."

We all look up when a thundering bang trembles the floor. "Fuck," he rasps. He stands still for a moment. Thinking. Looking all sides of the room.

"Looks like you don't have much time there, Romeo. You should probably hurry." Rose says with tapping nails on her desk.

He runs to Charlie's desk and pulls out drawers one by one. They fall to the floor in order with loud bangs. He rummages. Nothing.

His hands skims over the desktop. Nothing. He stops, looks up. He gropes his pockets. _Nothing_. He looks up. At me. He runs. My eyes go wide.

"What?"

"Your pockets," he mumbles. He kneels in front of me. I hiss. Pain rips through me. His hands cup the back of my knees and he pulls. I slide to the edge of the couch. Enough to give him room to dig my back pockets. Blood dripping on the leather cushion under me.

"No!" I heave when I see what he pulls out. "Not that."

"There's nothing else."

"No, please," a weak shake of my head. I reach for it. He pulls it away. "Edward," I plead.

"Bella," he scowls, "Do you want the Berry or not?" I bite my tongue and keep quiet. _Damn it._

"Aww, their first fight. How adorable." I look up at Rosalie's cocked eyebrow.

"Fuck you," I spit right back. If she only knew, It's not. We're like oil and water. Her indication that we're a couple flutters through my stomach. _I told him I loved him...Christ._

"Is that what you asked him to do?" she chuckles. I go red. "Many times I bet."

"For fuck's sake!" he punches the air.

Everything stops. His yelling is interrupted. All bickering forgotten as we look up at threatening doors. Even Rose straightens. The door cracks open and closes again. The mechanics screech and complain with strain.

"Bella!" I hear Charlie again. My breathing speeds at his frantic, angry howl.

_This is it._

I grip his arm with a whimper, "Edward."

"Where the fuck are they?" he yells over his shoulder. She doesn't respond. Her image scratching and threatening to fade.

"Masen..." she calls. The image freezes, permanently giving her a sneer. Red letters flash over the frame, 'Connection failed'. She goes black.

He stands and I watch him walk away with the card of my mother's video He slips it in a slot. It sticks. The screen lights up. A window blinks and reveals a file with a 'play' symbol over it. He taps on keys. A prompt fades in, asking to 'delete file'. He looks at me, "I'll get you another copy." I nod with a heavy swallow. He indicates to 'continue'. _Gone._ I breathe uneasily.

Pipeline after pipeline loads in neon blue as he saves them on the card's memory. Mug shots of men and woman appear and close quickly. I blink when I recognize some. The spies from Carlisle's office. Paul, Jake, unrecognizable men I once saw in passing at the forrest that Edward killed.

My stomach churns.

I choke. A sudden sharp pain spreads at my side. My body arcs. I heave and blood comes out. Through my nose, my mouth. I'm blinded by the ceiling light above me. The only thing I can focus on as I feel my body give way.

I hear him calling but I can't look at him. Air has left me. I can't catch it.

His warm hands find my shoulders, my face. _Oh god… I'm dying._ I want to tell him.

But he knows. I feel myself grow limp. He pulls me and my side is on the floor. A tear slips when I see him. I blink. He reaches. I don't know what he does but his fingers slip through my lips. I can breathe again. They come out crimson, almost black. He goes back in again to pull more clogging blood out. Two of his long fingers reach the back of my throat. I feel them. Scooping death out of me.

"It's ok. You're fine." He hushes my whimpers away. "It's just a little blood." He lies. He lies to me so I won't freak out.

He looks behind him. I blink. He disappears behind my lids. The banging is loud. So loud in my head. Needles prick my chest and arms, the effort of hurling death out. Weak. I can't anymore. I just want to sleep.

"Swan!" He cups my chin and shakes me. I'm jolted awake. He's kneeling above me. Ceiling lights are bright above him like a glow, a halo. _Like my guardian angel. I do...I do, I love him. _I open my mouth to tell him because I'll sleep now, but I spit red out. "Stay with me," he says from afar, his trembling hands all around me. But I'm so tired.

He rushes to a wet bar. Glasses clink. Bottles move and crash to the floor. He turns. The neck of a bottle of whiskey pressed in his closed fist.

He kneels again and his face is close. He doesn't answer the question from my knitted brows. I hear him place the bottle by his knees. He looks at me.

"Bella," he whispers. He looks away at the trembling doors and back at me. He winces. Breathes and his eyes open slowly. He can't continue. I know there's more he's not telling me. He finds his belt and the buckle clinks. He's breathing hard, focused. He pulls it off.

"Bella I...I have to take the bullet out," he murmurs.

What? I blink. He swallows thickly.

"It has to come out."

_Oh God... "_No," I shake me head. He nods.

"You're strong. You can take it."

I whimper watching him slip out his infamous blade. He bends the belt and cuts, two times.

"No, please..._please_." But he doesn't answer me. The task at hand is all he focuses on. He pulls out a lighter. The metal the same sheen as the Ivory's trimming. He flicks it and it ignites.

"_God..._" I cry. My head falls back. A sob escapes with anger. The fire molds to the blade as he sterilises the tip. My eyes flutter.

"Drink," he orders. He cups my head and helps me off the floor a bit. I feel the rim before I smell it. The burning alcohol wafting up my nostrils. I choke, feeling the burning liquid going down. I spit most of it out, running down my neck and cheeks. "More," he dips the bottle. I sniff back and swallow more.

Before I get a chance to breathe, he pulls. The tape rips off my skin soundly. My back arches. I scream.

My legs thrash and my trembling hands find his forearm. Nails. I dig down with all my strength. He doesn't flinch. My cry is muffled with his belt. I bite down when he holds it still, insistently. He bends and kisses my forehead and leans his on mine.

"Listen to me," he swallows. His warm breaths stream down my face. I breathe him in. "They're going take you. And there's nothing I can do. You can't fight back. They'll hurt you. Whatever happens, Bella, you have to be brave."

_But what about you?_ I scream at him. They'll take me but they'll kill him. I sob loudly as he pulls away to look at me. _Please, please, God don't let him die._

I shake the belt out my mouth, "I can't... I...I can't be without you. Edward, please, don't let them kill you. I know you can take them all. Please don't die. I love you...too much_._"

He nods. His brows and lips pucker. He doesn't respond...or can't. His lips go pale. His eyes glaze over and face reddens. He takes a staggering breath and swallows thickly. But never once does his gaze leave mine. "I know," he whispers. He closes in the last inch and kisses me.

My heart wants to give away. It pounds in my chest. I sniff back endless streaming tears. He's saying goodbye. I know it. I feel it through his kiss, he's letting go. His lips desperate, hard. The searing pain he's feeling, I taste it. I feel it too. I'm nearly hyperventilating when he tugs on my bottom lip and lets go. I can't. This is not how I pictured finding the one I'd fall completely and irrevocably in love with and having to let him go.

"Just promise me one thing when you get your strength back..." he murmurs. He pins my legs with a knee and pulls back. My teeth closes around his belt again. I whimper. His face grows hard, dark. Furious. "Give them hell."

He picks up the bottle and pours alcohol over my side. I scream. The burning. _God, the burning._ I feel the tendons in his arm under my fingers moving as I dig in harder. A hand desperately flails to his chest and I dig my nails there.

The twisting sharp blade digs into my skin. Raw. I feel it. Fuck the alcohol and the failed attempt at numbing. _Nothing._ Nothing is strong enough to make the the pain dull or stop. The room fills with my laments. My pain. Until my voice leaves me.

My eyes roll back. Gone, when his finger slip into the wound to find the shredded bullet.

—•—•

_BANG._

Shouts. Clicks and cocking metal. Chaos flood my ears.

I come to with a start. A heave. My chest fills. My teeth grit. The pain crawls back over me like sharp glass nails digging over raw skin. Every nerve aches and splits with the feel of open flesh down my middle. I can't even feel my legs.

I blink one eye free. Sticky film in my eye lids, everything is blurry.

_Edward. Where's Edward?_

I try to move but my chest is lead. I manage a twitch of my fingers. Other warm fingers graze the tips of mine. I try to close my fist and find them again.

"Drop your weapon!" I hear people shout. I gasp. I squeeze my eyes shut and blink them free. And I see. Edward is still kneeling above me.

His soaked red fingers grazes mine and slowly slip away. My blood runs cold, the little left pooling in me. He's quiet. Calm. His arms comfortably leaning on his bent knees. A single Ivory pressed into a fist. His eyes unfocused. He stares off into oblivion.

I blink, feeling the eerie vibe surrounding him. This is not like him. No fury or rage in his eyes. He waits. Letting them. He lets them win.

I gasp. My breathing picks up at the mere sight of a grey trench coat swaying its way into my line of vision. The polished shoes on my father's feet stop inches from Edward's bent knee.

I can't look up. I won't. I only keep my eyes on the calm man I've grown used to seeing angry. But he doesn't move.

I lie frozen, helpless, zoning out everything around me. Edward's face appears and disappears with every flutter of my eye lids. I fight to keep conscious. Black is invading again.

I watch him and his lips part. Finally he speaks. "She needs blood." Three words. It's all he says. His eyes never blink or focus.

Anger flares in me at polished shoes. One lifts and kicks him. Edward grunts. He flinches, his side twisting. He takes a hitched breath, but doesn't react.

The trench coat dips. The hem grazes the shiny floor. Charlie bends and snatches Ivory out of his fist. He lingers close to his face, "Last time you'll get to fuck with me, soldier. You're done," he spits. He lifts Ivory and jams it across his head. Edward instantly goes limp. He falls.

I try to cry out. My voice fails me. Nothing goes beyond my silent cry. My chest convulses. I feel him lifeless over me. His head heavy on my lap. I reach for him. With all my strength. My hand violently trembling skims his hair, his face, his neck. Warmth seeps faintly out of his lips. I feel it on my fingertips.

The blow didn't kill him, but soon they will. It's only a matter of time. And I can't do a thing to stop it. _Nothing._

"Get him out of here," Charlie orders. I hate him.

Weak. My consciousness fades under pooling tear filled stare. Wherever he went, I follow.

—–•—•

"Where is it?"

"Argh!"

"Say it, you fucking piece of shit!" Footsteps. Creaking floors under their weight. Closer. "Wake her up, dammit. Wake her up!" Rustling clothes. Chains clink. "Fuck...just move!"

My head falls back. I moan. My nostrils flair. Damp, moldy air. I try to open my lips. They crack. I taste blood. "Ah..."

"Sweetheart, wake up."

_No, no nooo... _I'm dreaming. This is a nightmare. My shoulders are squeezed roughly and lifted. I whimper. Pain. And more pain. I'm shaken. Lips kiss my cheek, chastely. A mustache tickles my damp skin. I feel heavy with grime and filth. My hair sticking to my glistening forehead, neck. My eyes won't unstick.

"Dammit, Bella, wake the fuck up!" I start. Charlie shakes me. I breathe rapidly. His thumb forces my lids open. "Look up. I want you awake for this, baby girl." He fists my hair and lifts my head up.

My heartbeat pick up. _What's happening? _"Edward," a faint whisper. My arms come alive. My nerves. _Oh God... _He's looking right into my eyes. Blood trickles up his forehead to his hair line. His face contorted awkwardly where he hangs upside down. Chains tied around his ankles, his arms behind his back. The bulged biceps straining with the tight hold. The glow of night seeps through a dirty window behind him. The blue moon sets shadows over his back. Swinging slowly back and forth, he blinks.

I try to sit up, but the pain is unbearable. Tape crinkles in my middle, holding the wound back together again. "Hold her." I look around. Two men stand in the shadows. The room is dark and I can't see who they are, just their hands holding my arms. I sit, weakly slouched in pain, staying up right with the rough hold from strange hands. My eyes snap back to his. The single bulb over him sets a glow over his skin. His scars dark, haunting. Every muscle on his arms and abs tense. The staggered breathing makes his chest rise and fall.

I scream. I thrash and pull. _You can't fight back. They'll hurt you. _But I don't care. I want to run to him.

"CHARLIE!" I yell. I watch as his arm lifts. Another blow to his side. Charlie's fist connects to his ribs. A fist to Edward's jaw. His neck snaps the opposite way. He spits out red. Another cut, another bruise added to his torso and face. He's covered. Tortured and terrifying. He's been hanging there for long while I was out. Charlie tugs off a brass knuckle ring off his fingers. It rattles on the floor. Swiftly, he's holding a knife to Edward's cheek under his eye.

"Start talking or I'll slash her until I find it." Edward doesn't even flinch. The white of his eyes, red, his dark irises move to find mine again.

"Stop it! I'll give you anything! Just leave him!" I plead. My head whirling, dizzy. Charlie laughs.

"God, you're so stupid, Bella. I thought I raised you better than that," he says with a shake of his head, "You can't give me what you can't find yourself."

"What. The fuck. Do you need?" I seethe between pants. The room grows quiet with the roar of my out burst. Charlie goes pale. Anger. His expression incredulous. He looks down at me, the men around me and back at Edward.

"Is this what you taught her? To be vile and rebellious? To be a _bitch_?" he looks at me, "Just like Renee."

"Don't you dare even say her name!" I shout. The echo fills the room. We stare at one another. Tension like a third person. I breathe. I break the silence with a weak hoarsed voice I don't even recognize myself, "You wanted me. I'm here. He has nothing to do with this. Let him go..." No one moves and my heart races.

Stupid traitorous tears slip. My head falls to my shoulder weakly. I wince. I swallow down the disgust at what I'm about to say, "_Dad_...please," I try.

"I'm going to ask again, soldier," he hisses. He ignores me, but doesn't break our glare. "Tell me where it is or I swear to god, I'll slice her conniving little tongue." _Shit._

I cry. My sob softly fills the silence. The knife is moving. trailing down his cheek, cutting. Edward flexes his jaw, trying to hold back the flinching pain. "Please... I'll give you anything. What is it? Tell me. Just _please_..."

I breathe a sigh of relief. Charlie pulls away. But only to walk towards me. I gasp. He takes me by my chin and lifts me off the floor slightly. "Where should I begin, soldier? Here?" I whimper. His knife trailing over my temple. I feel it cutting at the tip. "Or here?" I grunt when he finds the vein on my neck. "No, can't be right. Maybe here..." He flips my head and I feel the blade at my nape.

"Leave her!" Edward shouts. I shiver. His voice sending chills up my spine.

"He speaks!" Charlie shouts with glee. He pulls my head back up. I can see Edward's face again. "You're next words better be what I've asked for the past five hours. Choose wisely."

_Five hours...of non stop torture. _I cry for him and what he's been through just to be here with me. _Why couldn't he have left when I told him? _I stare in his eyes trying to convey what I can't tell him out loud.

For a long moment Charlie turns from calm to murderous. Edward doesn't speak.

"James, get the tray," he orders.

Quickly, boots shuffle to another room. I hear them make their way back. A man with short blonde hair walks into the light. His arm hoisted up on a sling. His eyes blue when he gives me a hard look. _I know him. _My heart skips a beat when I recognize him.

My eyes trail down to his wounded arm. The bloody scars on his face. I shot him...just yesterday. His torso hanging out of the SUV's window. _Fuck. _He'll most definitely want revenge. My gut tells me he probably already started with Edward.

He places the tray on a table on the side between Edward and I. Charlie reaches for a surgical knife. The tip thin and catching the light with a beam. I feel it in a blink of my eyes. I flinch. The space under my ear revealed when Charlie pulls my hair aside.

"One last chance," he says calmly, looking Edward's way. My breath hitches when Edward's lips part. But nothing. Nothing comes out. His jaw sets again stiffly. "Suit yourself."

I scream. The knife cuts slowly down my skin. I fight and turn to spit in his face. He blinks. His hand comes up and wipes it off roughly. He seethes with a twitch of his mustache. He grabs me again by my neck. I choke. He shifts my head and I feel the knife cutting behind my neck.

"Four fingers down her spine. Follow the birthmark under her hairline as a guide," Edward stops. He looks up. Edward finally hisses under clenched teeth. He's visibly shaking.

I stop. My eye roll back, trying to focus on his eyes again.

_The key. _I realize it's what Charlie was asking for. _In my spine? _And Edward knew.

All along I had it in me. Renee was right. I never knew it was literally planted in my skin. My mind is stampede with a memory that came to me at the lab, a dream—or was it real? I was a little girl. My white dress was speckled with red spots of blood. Carlisle's smile spread in my memory. His face kind. His hair neat and platinum blonde. The needle in his hands kept coming closer. The prick. I screamed in pain. I pulled a lollipop out of his hands after, as I cried in my mothers arms.

Carlisle and Renee planted it..._in me. _And now Charlie knows.

My heart drops. Edward watches me, his nose flared with fury. I look in his eyes and wordlessly ask him why he did it. He shouldn't have said it. But he glares, and I know its not important anymore to him. He'd rather I continue breathing. I want to touch him. Feel him.

"See? That wasn't so hard. And she gets to keep her pretty face," Charlie breaks the silence. He stands and wanders towards Edward again. "I'll set up the procedure right away. Men," he calls, rolling down his sleeves. They shift around and begin to move towards me again.

I tense. I look at them and back at Edward. _They'll kill him now. This time for definite. _I thrash on the floor when they reach me. I kick one on his shin. But then everything slows. I grow frozen. Something shifts. I see it. No one else catches it.

Edward's biceps flex.

Charlie turns around to face me. Everyone is looking at me. No one sees his arms drop from behind him and his torso bending.

My eyes grow wide. Adrenaline surges through me when I watch his teeth appear with a snarl.

_Fuck yes._

Edward swings his body sideways. In one thrust he reaches the tray on the table. Before velocity takes him away, he clenches the knives in a fist.

I blink and Charlie is screaming in agony. The air cuts behind him with a flick of a knife. As Edward swings away, he slices the bones at the back of his ankles over his shiny shoes. One after the other. Three slashes over his spine, tearing thourgh his crisp white shirt. He falls forward.

Black coats look up. All they catch of the commotion behind them are blades, airborne, aiming for the space between their eyes. The two simultaneously grunt and fall.

"Edward!" I shout. Charlie's screams are calling attention to more heavy boots coming from outside. But Edward already has a leg free. His body swinging side to side across the night sky lit window.

He holds onto the chains with both hands and swings his legs free. He drops. Electricity surges through me at his proximity. I weakly reach out to him. His fingers touch my hand and I can breathe again.

But behind him. He kneels in front of me and more men run to flood the doorway. "Edward," I whimper. And he knows. His face turns slightly and he stays frozen. He looks back at me. His face partially covered in streaks of blood. His brows knitted. I run my palm over his cheek. His fingers twine in mine.

_No, this can't be it. It can't end like this. _I sniff back tears that stream endlessly again down my quivering chin. He turns his head and kisses my palm.

Cocking guns click sharply.

"FIRE!" Charlie shouts from the floor. I gasp. He leaps. I blink and he's gone. Shards of glass rains over me. A window. I close my eyes. My arms come up to shield my head. I scream. Agony.

Shot after shot splinters the wood and window pane above me. And I know. _I know. _I feel it in my aching heart, a pang in my chest.

Edward is dead.

—•—•—•


	22. Chapter 21: Born

**A/N Happy after Christmas! Felt weird this year like it wasn't really christmas. But I ate a lot so I guess it was christmas. I have to apologize for the tardiness. The second half of the chap didn't work out. The muse wasn't there. So this is the first half. I'll try and make the second half pronto, just have to work out the kinks. It was post what I have or have you wait more.  
**

**Hope you're all ok! Don't hate me! Like I said in the beginning, I've never written a story in my life, that's why this process is so long. I'm a newbie. But I will finish it. Thanks for your patience!**

Beta Smurf B: You have so much patience I don't know how you still like me. lol I wuv you to pieces!  


**I don't own Twilight. I just own a Mini and my FF reading device—iPhone.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — **_**Is tight from all the cookies.**_

—•—•—•

_**Sound: Kings of Leon - Closer**_

—•—•—•

**Chapter 21 - Born**

It is spring.

Birds sing. A fly buzzes around a my room trying to find escape to the outside. The smell of daffodils on the window sill surrounded by white billowing curtains. The breeze is invited to do what it pleases. I am 17.

But it is summer, not even spring. The car window is rolled down and relief. No AC. My eyes close against the air, still too warm. The car goes faster and thank god, a breeze. Something. Working on campus is brutal, yet exciting. Loud bumping speakers vibrate through windows of students still lingering after finals. Exciting because, hell, the parties. Suppressed giggles from the backseat by girls I grouped with in Government Law 101, because even if we're still girls with giddy butterfly filled bellies, we try to act mature. Exciting because, hell, _the guys_.

It's not quite summer though—the leaves are falling. I'm 23. I'm nervous. I stand, taking a deep breath to shake Harry's hand. My first job. My first real job. I had a degree. I knew what to say. I had every reference letter with nothing but amazing things to say. I pretend, so hard, that I didn't get the job politically because they know me. It's because of my intellect and drive. Definitely my way of speaking. Or even the two year experience working for another newspaper. I wrote obituaries. I sigh. I walkout with a sure job in a stiff skirt suit and I know. I just know it was inevitable. I tried anyway.

But I wanted it to be snowing. Winter, by far my favorite season. Watching the sky turn gray, wishing, hoping, _praying _it would snow. School would be out. And gosh, so fun. Everything was as it should have been and frenemies played together for just that one day. Nothing mattered more than freedom from the binds of homework and books. Sledding contests down the park hill was top priority.

It was better when I was 10. I wanted to be older and feel just like the senior girls in high school when I was 13. Stupid me. I miss being in my 20's. I don't think I savored it like I should have. I was younger then than now.

Whatever age, memory, or original moment, I was never satisfied.

Foolish of me to want to be someone else and not realizing I was right where I was supposed to at that moment. I should have held it tightly and memorized it all.

I regret it now. Completely.

The glass is frigid against my fingertips tracing the rain drops. A foggy day. Mirroring my soul. I can't feel but the cold is flowing straight to my heart. Does it even continue to beat? I can't feel it. Nothing matters anymore.

The Ivory colored luxury leather creaks beside me. The irony of the color that I hold so dear to my heart surrounds me in a prison. The presence sitting beside me with its power over me besmirches its sentiment. The vast space of the limo is small, threatening, as they watch. Always watching. I sit immobile. Even if I was able, I couldn't run. Where would I go? The will has dissipated along with _him_. I can't even say his name. It hurts like knives cutting into me again.

Any age or day would be better than this...because today I'm 30 and I watch red roses over my white casket being lowered into the ground. The tombstone sits sure and tall behind many people in black as proof that I was loved. People cared..._for me_. They mourn my death with red roses in their hands. A hug or a pat on Charlie's shoulder under the wide black umbrella, they say their deepest regrets and condolences. His brown eyes flicker to the black limo just hiding under the drooping tree. Where I sit. Where I hide.

I watch my own funeral from afar because Isabella Swan is no longer alive.

—••—•—•• **3 week ago ••—•—••—**

Dried blood under my nails. Dirt and grime has build up. My hands still show the stains of my blood, still feeling the warmth of Edward's cheek on my palm. Lingering. I still feel him. Even after he's gone and turning cold. The single bulb in the room swings side to side. With each pass I see my flesh and blood seeping out of each scratch of my nails over Charlie's face.

I don't even recognize my own voice. It's not mine. Someone is screaming. Fury and anger. The life that left Edward's has flown into me. His fury is mine.

_Give them hell._

But I'm not strong enough like he hoped. I'm weak and bleeding still. But he's gone, they've killed him and just the thought alone sends adrenaline through my bones.

I wanted to climb out of the window to see for myself. To go after him. _Him. _My scarred man. My everything, yet, nothing is left of him anymore. But they held me back. So I crawled to get to Charlie.

Nails.

A prick in my neck ceases everything, makes my grip weak. The light of my world dims. Even the moon. Color was nothing but red and grays and the black of Charlie's eyes as I dug nails in his face. He took Edward away. I loved him...

_And he never said it back._

Lights hastily glow behind my eyelids now. I'm made of lead. Shouts and orders around me. They'll take the key and take it all. The rolling of squeaking wheels of a hospital bed under me. I'm floating. I'm screaming but they can't hear me or see what I see. I'm sure of it. Edward is a figment of my imagination.

_God, he is. How did It come to this? _

He's so real I can touch him if my arms weren't lead. Behind my eye lids he waits, the green bulbs of his eyes are streaked with red. Blood lining his face and ribs. His scars are open to show his flesh. There are more red ribbons coming out of my veins. Thousands of them this time. Tenfold. The streetlights are dimmer around us. He can't seem to pull away the ribbons out of my bleeding veins. His silhouette darkening as he walks away. This time, he doesn't bury the ribbons into gravel. This time, I'm helpless. This dream is different because I wake up and his arms aren't around me. I can't feel him but the memory of his lips on my shoulder.

Gone. He's gone and he was mine.

I feel myself leave my body through unconsciousness. And I'm glad. So relieved. If he doesn't exist**,** I want to be the same.

—•—•—••

The most realistic dream leaves me still feeling. It's that feeling when something horrible has happened before you fell into a deep slumber. But then you wake up. Your heart begins to speed and all the memories come rushing back. And you wish you never did wake up.

I still feel the prickles on my skin from his arm around my shoulder. His hard chest against my back. Even the firm grip he leaves on my shoulder burns from his rough, yet gentle hand. But the hardest part is still feeling his lips by my ear...whispering.

My eyes grow hot with the seeping tears already falling before my lids unstick. Before I can even feel my limbs.

I hear whispering. They aren't soothing or warm like his. Fear slips in with every murmur.

I open my eyes and they might as well be glued shut. Tears blur the light and ceiling. Without a thought I reach for my burning shoulder where I just _know _he was. The hard cotton there is rough and unfamiliar.

I lift my head off the hard surface. My brows knit when I look around me. Cement walls and lighting, a wide mirror takes up one entire wall.

I sit up. I hiss. It was true. All of it. Not a dream. Just a gauze covers it. Silver tape is gone, along with him. Faint pain. _How long has it been? _Memories of waking up at the Lab so long ago makes my breathing pick up. _What if it's been a month...longer?_

I turn my head slowly. My nape prickles. A presence. Someone is watching. The mirror only reflects a pale, disheveled, broken woman. I don't know her. She moves every time I do. Her chest rises and falls every time mine does. She has aged, I can tell even where I sit. Tragedy still lingers over her shoulders as she slouches on a cement slate bed. The orange prison suit brings out the red in her eyes and blotchy skin.

I stand. My bare feet instantly feel the numbing cold of the cement floor.

_Why am I here? _The woman's lips move with the whispered question. I stop to look at her. I can't answer her because I don't know myself.

I look at my feet and my nape stretches. I hiss. Trembling fingers feel for the gauze there. It travels to the top of my spine. I skim the weaving fabric. I breathe. A sob filled gasp leaves my parted lips.

_They took it all._

I look up—she said something.

"What?" I ask. Her dried lips unstick and she asks me at the same time. Tears slip to run down her cheek, to her chin. There, it quivers until it drops to the floor. Her chin trembles. Her throat bobs.

_I'm tired...so tired. _

"I know," I nod. I can't breathe. She makes me sad. I feel her pain.

_I want out. _She looks around. The whole length of the mirror. But there's nothing. _I want to go home. I want out._

"Me too," I tell her. No cracks or holes to escape through. We have no hope. "But I don't have a home," I swallow. My hands lean on the spotless mirror. My fingertips smudge and stick, leaving my prints. We both look at that.

_Edward wouldn't like that. No prints. Can't leave prints behind. _

I nod. She's right. I tug on the orange shirt and lift up on the tips of my toes to reach. I wipe the prints off. I stand back and they're gone.

She looks at me. We agree. "We want out."

"Charlie," where is he? He's still alive. Nails weren't enough. I call him over and over turning in circles as if he'll appear. I look beyond her. Where the whispers came from. I know he's there. "Charlie! _Let me out!_"

Nothing. She looks at me and she's furious too.

_Damn him. _

"No, fuck him."

She laughs I look up and her shoulders bob. She bends forward, her hands at her waist as she lets out a breath of laughter.

I can't help but laugh too. She's mad. She's gone insane. But I get her. This is too much. I want to go home. Be alone. Grieve. Find _his_ body. Bury him. Find anyone to help me with my foggy brain.

She straightens and I see tears. More of them. She covers her face. I rub my eyes and she's sad again. This is more than sad. This is sickness of a viral insanity spreading. She taps her temples with trembling fingers. I close my eyes.

"CHARLIE!" I scream with her. My fists ball at my temples around my hair.

Forget leaving fingerprints. My fists and hers bang against the mirror. "GET ME OUT!" kicks and punches. Shrieks of anger and fury coming out of us. Her teeth and lips glisten with her screams. Like an animal infected with rabies, maddening. Out of it. Tears never dare to stop.

I drop. And I can't see her. But I hear her grieving. I know how she feels. I grieve too.

_He's gone and I can't go home. He was home...and he has left me. _She sounds hurt. And so am I. No more of his skin or his kisses. His warmth or his scars. No more insistent fingers at the small of my back. I was so safe in his arms. Just fear and loneliness is left in my faltering heart.

_I want to die. _

"Me too. _God, me too_..." I respond to the broken woman on the other side. The sobs turn to convulsions, each trying to leave my chest all at once. A repeated sway on my heels as I hug my knees. The woman whimpers and its so heartbreaking, I can't help but sway to make it go away. But it's not enough. So I cover my ears.

She just keeps going and going...

_I want to die... I want to die. _I want to die too.

Echo. A rolling piece of something reaches beyond my tightly covered ears.

My swaying stops. My muscles tense. I look up. Just enough to see a tusk rolling to a stop on the slate bed. Without a thought I'm on my knees. Crawling. Trying to get to Edward's pendant with an 'E' carved on the back, just where I remember. My heart slams in my chest when my fingers wrap around it. I bring it to my chest.

It's still the same. The red ribbon missing and I already know where it is. He carried with it. But that just confirms...

"It's the only thing left of him. I thought you might want it." I suppress a sob but a tear betrays me when it falls.

My spine chills with the mere sound of my father's voice. He came. I wonder if the broken woman sees and is relieved. I don't think she is. Silence envelops the cement cold room as an obvious sign that his presence doesn't bring welcoming joy. I just stare at my hands and try not to burst.

"You loved him, didn't you?" he asks. He insults the silence. His expensive clothes shift as he crouches on the other side of the slate.

My teeth grind. The blood in me boils under my pale and pasty skin.

Slowly, I look from under my lashes. My breathing staggered with anger. I rub my thumb over the engraved letter that represents everything I yearn for. I look at him from just over the edge of cement. I don't respond. Because how dare he? He ordered him to be killed and now he asks. _Now. _As if he cared to know like a curious father. A question any parent would want to know about a child. And now.._.he asks_.

"Bella, I'm...I'm so very sorry," he whispers. His brows knit like a concerned father's would. "But he had it coming, darling, he was a killer. He would've hurt you. He would've brought you danger. He wasn't good...for you."

_How fucking dare he?_

I see red.

Charlie chokes. His hands grip my wrists. I leap over the slate and right on to him. "HOW DARE YOU?" I scream. In his face. I dig and more nails. I'm gone and my fingers squeeze the life out of his eyes. The veins of his neck protest with every squeeze of my hands and nails, all my weight straddling his chest.

_I'll kill you now. You'll pay for everything you've done. _

He gasps. His eyes widen. The pendant under my palm, conveniently presses into his windpipe.

"Satisfying isn't it?"

My eyes clear from their haze with a start.

"The thrill soars through your veins and suddenly, his neck is a twig. Snap."

I watch the red veins in Charlie's forehead turning purple. His lips the same.

_Give them hell. _But someone is ruining this. My eyes flicker to my left and back at Charlie again. Shiny shoes by my side. Black and leather, of the expensive kind.

_Shut up!_

A man chuckles. "I know, I apologize. He had it coming. But I tell you what, Isabella. I'll let you kill him if you do me one little favor." His voice above me is calm and amused. I don't respond. I won't. The oblivious brown eyes of Charlie under me are desperate. This is where I want to be.

His shoes shift and he crouches beside me. His cologne heavy and wafting through my nose, clearing my murderous haze. "I'll give you possession of the key. If fact, I'll give you everything that belonged to your mother," he gently murmurs. I silently gasp. Beads of sweat build on my temples. My body trembles. _Renee's and my key. Mine._

His finger taps my knuckle once and pulls away, "But you have to let go first."

Charlie's hands are growing limp around my wrist. A shake of my head. _Fuck no. _My teeth grind.

"I know, gorgeous, It's what you want," he answers as if I spoke out loud. My unfiltered mind is dizzy and I might have. He leans an elbow on his bent knee and watches me. "But I have something even better to get this job done at a more appropriate time. A pair of Ivory guns might do the trick, don't you think?"

I freeze.

He has the twins. Edward's twins. I look at him. A handsome man—clean, rich, looking younger than Charlie under neat midnight hair. His eyes**, **eerily and abnormally ice blue**, **never blink. Shivers up my spine.

Wrong color.

"It's all yours. Anything you want," he speaks, my eyes shift behind him. Over his shoulder a box appears in the hands of another man. The twins are tucked into perfectly fit holes. And I'm on my feet. A coughing, heaving Charlie is forgotten.

"Good girl," the nameless man praises with a purr. I stiffen. My blood runs cold in an instant. I turn slowly to glare at ice blue eyes below. And they're smiling. Proudly. Smugly.

The man holding the box flinches, attempting to close the lid at my advance. But it's too late. The metal that is so familiar and sings on my fingertips cocks into its rightful place, where it belongs-right between his ice blue eyes. "Call me that _one_ more time, my face will be the last you see."

Smug infested smirk fades. He slowly shows me his palms. His eyes drop, blink and drift back up again. He hesitantly flinches away. But the cold barrel follows his every move. He gives in with frozen limbs.

"And these..." I snatch the other Ivory in a tight grip, gesturing, "Belong to _me_," I hiss. I turn and tap the other barrel twice against his skull. He blinks. His jaw tightens and I could give a fuck. "I don't need your bribery. _They're mine,_" I pound the other barrel to my chest.

The cement room echoes with my venomous words and Charlie's wheezing. Silence. Minutely, Ice blue stare turns to a glare.

"Now, you'll show me the way out," I continue. I nod my head towards the entrance with a resolved snap. "I want out."

"I'm sorry, but that can't happen."

"It can and it will. Now."

"You're not well, Isabella. There are still drugs in your system. You're not thinking straight."

"You took what you wanted. Let me go."

"Isabella," his eyes shift behind me and back. Just as fast, I point the aimless Ivory to the man behind me.

"I will put a hole through your fucking head, I swear—"

"—Renee needs you," he interrupts. I freeze.

"Fucking restrain her already!" Charlie shouts hoarsely from the floor.

_BANG._

Every man in the room blink with a start. Charlie screams in agony with a fresh new bullet hole in his thigh. "I wasn't talking _to you_," I spit. Charlie grows quiet. His head falls back.

Without missing a beat, blue eyes are staring down the barrel again. He watches me for a long moment with an expression I can't read. Or can't focus on. My heels roll before I catch my balance again. My head is spinning. I hide it well.

"Where was I?" I ask him with a tilt of my head. I nod once when he doesn't respond, "Right, you were just showing me out."

His lip curls at the corner and he chuckles. The sound deep and dark. He shakes his head with an incredulous stare. "Unbelievable. A copy of Renee," he mumbles to himself. "Excellent." He rubs his hands together. An onyx ring gleams on his pinky finger when he curls them. Like he's preparing for an exciting affair. He's almost giddy.

"I'm sorry. I'm awfully rude. Allow me to introduce myself," he says and stands slowly. Ivory follows him. He extends a hand and for a moment it's suspended in the air. He snaps it back into his fist with a nod. "I am Nicholi Aro. And it's an honor to meet the daughter of a the woman I admired so much. She was genius."

A pang in my heart. _Aro. _Edward spoke about him once and didn't tell me who he was. He never had the chance. I swallow thickly. What was it about this man that induced fury in Edward's eyes just uttering his name?_ Who is he, Edward?_

I stare at him, still, but my nerves spike from my heart to every limb. "You knew...my mother," I barely manage to say it.

He nods, "I did," and smiles. His cheeks crease and dimple handsomely over strong bones. Features that have aged well. The deep charcoal tailored suit with black peeking under, adds youth to his appearance. His kind is blessed with good genes that Hollywood would eat up and make millions with. He continues when I don't respond, "I know everything she stood for and worked so hard to achieve. I'm offering you the chance to finish what she started, Isabella."

I blink. I clear my throat as beads of weakness trickle down my spine. I shake my head out of its reverie. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"The Berry," a nod, "The power to fulfill her dreams to create the serum and help the sick. I'll partner with you in marketing it to buyers all over the world. I'll help you, Isabella. I'll give you anything you need. Anything your heart desires and more. All you need to do is accept."

"No one gives anything for nothing. What do you want?"

His arms spread in gesture, "It is obvious. Success. Justice—"

"—Control? Power?" I finish. He chuckles softly. He shakes his head**.** fiddling with his ring.

"I can't lie. It's tempting and any smart business man would want those things, but..." he pauses. He moves one step towards me. I step back. "...to be frank, look around you, gorgeous. I've already got _all _those things."

I breathe. The look he sends Charlie on the floor doesn't escape my notice. He took power over him and the law he represents as a lieutenant. It is clear to me everyone sits in the palm of his hand. Money is a vicious cycle of bad, dirty and death. He smirks.

He slowly steps closer to me. I blink and step away. My grip around the twins is faltering. Weaker by the second.

"Since it is so, I'd suggest you think very hard on my offer. Because with the _power _I have_, _as you were so inclined to point out, can and will be extended to bring your life, and possibly the world, danger. I will make sure Renee's hopes will perish along with you. Is that clear?"

My back hits the hard wall. I gasp.

"Work with me or stand against me and put up a _hell_ of a fight. What will it be?" I tense at the burning trail his finger leaves on my cheek. My eyes close and I don't know how he escaped Ivory's aim. I blink and his eyes—only evil possesses eyes like his. I can't move.

A sob escapes my chest. This nightmare will never end. He will take everything that was Renee's and destroy it. He'll use it for evil. I can't let him win, and I can't beat him. I don't have the strength. He took everything he had to find me. Even if I run**,** he'll find me again. It's inevitable.

Only Edward kept him away.

So, I wait. I wait for the moment Edward pounds his way through the walls to save me from this. He would kill every breathing man to find me. Even Charlie.

_Any second..._

My body screams at me to have hope and faith that he'll come. I can feel it in my bones and the deepest of my core. He'll come...

_Right...now._

I close my eyes. I hold my breath. I wait.

I cry.

Nothing.

"Why? Why not kill me here and finish it?" _Please...kill me._ I limply let go. My arms drop to my sides giving up. Edward won't come.

Aro leans in with a palm by my head. His eyes travel from my hands all the way up to my eyes. "Because, Isabella, I finally have you." My cheek burns with a Judas kiss.

_Sick son of a bitch. _He dares to touch me while my father watches. Charlie does nothing. My skin crawls.

And I cry.

"You think about it. Rest and get your strength back, how's that?" He whispers. His fingers slip the twins out of my hands. "Don't worry, they're still yours. I'll just keep them safe for now." They're back in the box and gone. My girls. My only link to Edward. I sniff back angry tears.

"Come," he orders and gently pulls me by my elbow. "I'll take good care of you." My step staggers a bit and he catches me. My vision still foggy, but I push him away. I look up and the woman is standing too. Her face sad and still broken. So, I look away. I'm ashamed of what I see.

_Give them hell. _But you're not here. And never will be. I'm sorry, Edward, but I'm not. I'm giving up.

Charlie is watching. God, I hate him. Anger and Sadness when I look at him.

"Look at what you've done," I spew. Shame in his eyes when he looks away. His face sullen. Aro pushes me out of view**.** Charlie's not a Lieutenant anymore, or someone of great importance—not even a father. He's a slave to Aro just like I've become.

—•––••––•

* * *

**A/N: More soon. Thanks a billion for your reviews! You're all amazing.**


	23. Chapter 22: Greatness

**A/N Omg I'm falling asleep right now, like eyes closingggg gg, found a spider on my bed while writing, had to stop and kill it with my towel and scrap it off with a plastic toy sun I found from a keychain on my desk...ALL while buzzed on Scorpion Bowl cocktail. Exciting night. I apologize for the delay for this chap but hey, you know me already. And life is just...yeah. I even had a birthday pass a while back. Hate when that happens. And my boss is el diablo.**

**I ended up writing loads more because of it. And the plotting, LORD, the plotting. In beta's words, it's Mental Constipation(™ that bitch). For my lovely Smurf Beta, thanks a load! And for relieving the load off my words. To my pre-readers, lubyou!**

**I don't own Twilight. I just own a Mini and my FF reading device—iPhone.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — **_**Thin over a Prada dress.  
**_

—•—•—•

_**Sound: How to destroy Angels - Is Your Love Strong Enough (fawesome song, really - Thanks, as always, to Vantastic)  
**_

—•—•—•

**Chapter 22 - Greatness**

A roaring crowd. The walls seem to vibrate with the rumble. I fear. Aro pulls me by my elbow. I grip the wool blanket thrown over me when I stepped out of the cement room. My knuckles white with the effort to find comfort in something. _Anything._ A lifeless object of fabric is my companion, my shield.

I feel him watching me. I look up from the corner of my eye and he is. He smirks. In any other circumstance the smile tugging at his lips would seem kind, reassuring, gentlemanly gazing at a beautiful woman with admiration.

_Sick bastard. _I don't know where he's taking me.

My steps falter. My bare feet are cold. I'm dizzy and he catches me. My skin burns. I pull away. Only to bump into a black clothed man. A hitched breath and I aim the other way. They're everywhere.

We've been walking through a maze of dark corridors. The walls cement with fire sconces illuminating intricate molding and architecture. The high ceilings are vaulted with sculpted figures of angels and demons with bows and arrows.

This is what Charlie traded me for. Cold. Darkness.

"Just a little while longer. We're making a detour first, then off to bed," he murmurs. I don't know what he means. His arm curls around my shoulders. I can't catch a step to pull away. "I just couldn't wait to show you any longer," he continues.

The crowd gets louder from afar. And they seem to be celebrating. A party with no music. Just voices intermingling with others. I blink.

My attention perks when we turn a corner and there, standing on either side of the walls are a line of black clothed men. They face forward not looking at anyone but keeping guard as the crowd continues to roar beyond. Their posture stiff and militant. Each with the same uniform and tight buzz cut.

A spark shoots up my spine. Fear creeps in further. _Where are we? _I look up at him and then back. I feel so exposed, like death is near and I'm walking right into his trap.

Just when this thought finishes, his palm rubs my arm in a gesture to keep me warm. It travels to my shoulder then my neck. His fingers seem to have a mind of their own. I flinch away when he caresses my cheek there. This only sends me reeling into a wall of soldiers. Aro pulls me to the crook of his arm again.

I try to hide my gasp. We walk and they turn to follow us as a show of respect that their master is there and grazing them with his presence. Their right eye covered with a metal patch. The center of the gadget translucent like red stained glass.

One by one, they turn as Aro and I walk pass them. Not but a second before we walk by, a head turns. I watch. The stare and choreographed movement is disturbing. Aro barely notices with a nod.

But nothing so much like the thundering roars of people. Eerie. I want to turn back an run away. Everything in me wants to find a familiar place. I think of Charlie, of where he is.

But I want vengeance from him, I remember. My hazy brain. I am most definitely alone.

My throat closes. _I want Edward. _I hide my trembling chin under wool.

The corridor seems endless and with every step I'm anxious. A set of enormous double doors appear and we stop. I can barely hear my thoughts with the cacophony of people, shouting, hollering, calling.

Aro turns to me. "Stand right here, I'll just be a moment." I don't respond. He nods with the grin still on his lips. He turns away. A set of soldiers reach for the knobs and pull.

I gasp. A breeze makes my eyes flutter...

_Oh God._

There are hundreds. An army in black roars loudly. With wide eyes and a gaping lips, I stare, shocked. My eyes filling with visions of an underworld in a massive run down expanse.

Aro takes a step. A cracked stoned balcony under his feet. His palms curl around engravings over a sandy railing. Deafening noise.

Fists in the air and mouths wide open in a victorious solace.

I gravitate with staggered steps towards the mass of people. I tilt my gaze around Aro's shoulder. My eyes wildly trail all around. The women. The men. All in intricate forms of black clothing. All eyes on Aro standing in front of me. _God, what is this?_

Columns of stone and high, massive vaulted ceilings in shadows. They shelter the stone balcony that goes around the perimeter of the top walls. Fire illuminates the floor with a yellow glow, scarcely reaching the far end of the back that is swallowed up in darkness. The walls of cement are infested with detailed gargoyles, angels and demons decorating the cracked and stained walls. An old, deteriorated church made into an evil sanctuary.

My eyes can't move fast enough to capture it all. I stand frozen.

This is beyond more serious than I'd ever dreamed. An army follows Nicholi Aro.

_An army._

The weight of the extremity of it all hits me. Like a bullet to my heart. This is our future. This is the world in danger. This is the world being taken over. My chest rises and falls with heaves of horror.

I whimper. My palm finds my dry lips. Panels of sepia fabrics are draped along the front of the stoned balconies. Profiles of soldiers. Dead. They served and died for the cause. Painted red 'X's over their chest as a symbol of defeat. Some familiar. I shiver. Because those specific faces are pinned with a red ribbon at the tail of the red 'X'.

_Edward's victims._

I know it. I can feel it. No one needs to explain the obvious sign. They mark them with a symbol of their killer.

And Jake.

His drapery is the largest on one side. His sneer in the woven image is malicious. Just as I remembered him. His buzz cut fresh, his long hair gone. He looks young. A metal crest pinned to his image chest, the red ribbon near it. They respected him. He was a leader. And I helped kill him.

The crest I saw on Charlie's desk is a repeated decorative symbol through out the place.

Aro lifts a palm. "Soldiers!" The cheers die down only slightly. The silence spreads through the mass of bodies. He waits. His gaze turning right to left. His eyes scanning the tops to the floor filled with attentive eyes. He adjust his tie and smooths the lapel of his suit. He grazes a thumb and a finger around his onyx ring.

Finally, the silence settles. My ears ring. The silence eerie and palpable, like it might burst again.

I hesitantly take a step. The door frame covers me enough to peer around it. They all look up at Aro with wonder. My heart pounds in my chest. Just a few feet away familiar faces stand by, watching. They blend in with the crowd with smug faces.

Paul. Jelena. The brunette with her from Carlisle's office. My stomach rolls when I see the blond haired man with a sling still around his arm. I did that.

But he killed Edward.

I suck in a breath when his eyes meet mine suddenly. He grins. I move to hide.

"Please welcome someone very vital and special to me," he looks at me and gazes. I uncomfortably look from him to the crowd. "We finally have her." Cold running through my spine with every word.

"I present to you..." he starts, when the crowd's hollers start again. He continues, "Miss Isabella Swan."

My head reels. Panic touches my bones and limbs. I can't move. He turns to me and extends his hand. The crowd grows loud. Before I know it, he pulls me and I'm standing at the foot of the balcony staring down at the mass of people.

I try to turn away, my feet scramble to step back, but Aro holds me still. His chest to my back. _God, what is this? This is insanity. I'm dreaming._

I turn away to run. My feet midair when he lifts me off the ground by my waist. He settles me down on my feet again. His arm curls around my shoulders and he whispers. His lips to my ear and another tear slips when my eyes close. Just like my dream, but it isn't Edward. "Take it all in, Isabella. This could be yours if you so choose. Anything you'd like...anything."

My body trembles. The back of his fingers caresses my cheek. I open my eyes and I'm panting. So many of them. My eyes flicker to the familiar faces and they are grinning darkly. I catch Paul's eyes and he nods once. My stomach churns.

I dissolve. My legs can't take the weight of this nightmare anymore.

I scream.

I scream until my lungs give out. My cries die, muffled with the rumbles of hundreds of people. Their roar are like piercings through my chest. And I can hear them still. Even after the doors shut and Aro drags me away through a pitch dark place where my new life begins.

—••—•—•• **The beginning of the end ••—•—••—  
**Present day

After the old wrinkled man with a white stark stripe on his collar speaks with a solemn expression and wise words, they lower the white casket. It is done.

People disperse to different paths. Charlie stays standing with shoulders caved and heavy with the world. His act is believable. Almost believable to knowing eyes like mine.

"I am dead."

"You are very much alive."

"Like I've...never existed."

"You do. Just...changed a little." Aro's pinkie finger on the Ivory leather seat ghosts over mine. Burning. Static awakens the fine hairs on my arm, like vines growing at the speed of light.

I begin to pull away, flexing my fingers to curl into my palm on my lap, slowly, to not stir him. I clench my other fist by my mouth. Hiding the tremble in it.

He snatches, like a venomous snake. I start. But I keep my gaze focused at my funeral flowers beyond the streaked weeping window. He weaves his long, cold, fingers through mine. Palm to trembling palm.

"Change is good," he murmurs. And his lean towards me is intrusive too. My lobe tickles. I try to hide the flinch.

I'm certain I've said those words to myself. But these days my brain filter is leaking personal thoughts. These days, I'm not myself, injected with numbing drugs that flow through my veins every second. They don't trust me to stay and not run.

He answers. As if I would ever intentionally speak to him. He curls each of my fingers over the back of his hand, forcing my limp digits to care.

"I am..." the words choke in my dry throat.

"You are... brave, beautiful..._fascinating_."

"No one."

He breathes deeply and lets it go. "A new name will fix that. You can choose."

Charlie moves. I follow him with glazed eyes. Tears at the precipice. I shake my head. I don't want a new name. I want me. I want life back.

"Anything you'd like," he insists, a warm exhale on my neck. I bite down hard on my lip. Tears are already falling off my chin.

And then I see it. My new name. For the longest I stare at it. The tomb stone by the drooping tree. How perfect the spot seems to be. Undisturbed. Quiet. I wish my empty tomb had a view like that one, over a hill, at least. The carved letters embossed in stone. Gray. Wet with rain. Just as appropriate as the foggy day and my brain. The meaning of perfect sense—renewed after suffering calamity.

The bullet proof car we sit in drives away. My funeral comes to an end. Everyone has payed their respects, moved on and gone.

He's right. Life, most definitely, has changed.

—•—•—•

I can't walk without assistance now. The cotton clothes and heavy scarves bundled under my chin. I shiver still, even under thick layers of sweaters. Expensive ones. The pain killers and other meds that have nothing to do but numb and weaken, never reach my bleeding soul. Hollow. Zombie blood through my veins, and I try to walk. His hands all over my spine as my staggers don't right themselves.

He insists on helping me to my quarters even though a nurse in a white uniform hovers around us around the clock. He pushes her helping hands away and guides me.

His wool coat at the length of his ankles covers an Italian suit. His hair combed neatly. Always very neatly. His cologne is intoxicatingly handsome. I hate it. The hand securely holding mine. Even so, he doesn't look the part as a caring guardian. Off. Too stiff and business-like. A man of power. I look up at his jaw, his rare eyes, as he looks at the steps we climb wearyingly slow. He has been kind. I hate it even more.

I dizzily arrive to lavishly crafted doors, spent, after a long drive from the airport. A private jet flew over the border of Canada to Illinois. I watched it all pass by from my own private window. Freedom down there and I was on top of the clouds with worry lines between my brows. Everyday he leaves me in my room with a kiss right between them. _Everyday. _

If I had the strength to breathe right I'd spit in his face.

I sit at a mirror, not long after, in an empty large room. Too large for me. And it isn't even the end of it. Many rooms connect to this one before I can find a door to leave. To escape. But It's my home now. _Anything I want_, like Aro says. Finely furnished quarters in a penthouse on the top floor of a modern building on Chicago's magnificent mile. I don't know what's so magnificent about this. Him. Me. The reflection on the molded frame mirror I see through red eyes.

I stare at the broken woman. She's back again. And she's still not doing so well. Pale. Blotchy. Thin. Too thin. Collar bones caved and cheekbones pronounced. Swimming in clothes that aren't my own or hers. I remember feeling deep defined ribs when reaching for the large wound yesterday as a nurse helped me bathe. I haven't looked. I can't. I won't.

I follow the line hooked to a machine towering beside me. An IV line still buried in a vein in my hand. An oxygen line sits under my nose and hers too. We're a mess to behold. But I can breathe better. I could spit now if he was here. My teeth grind.

Needly things, said the nurse about the dripping meds. The bullet Edward pulled out of me did plenty of damage to a lung. Too much. He pulled it out just in the nick of time. Saving me. He was always good at that, wasn't he?

I would go through the pain to feel his hands again.

If I close my eyes and focus hard enough I can still feel him, smell his skin.

And the broken woman is crying again. A tear slips and drops on the glass vanity in front of me. The only sound in the quiet room. I watch her and I cry too. We're alone. And always will be.

One week. Two. Three. I don't know how long I've been here since I woke in a cement room. I end up every night on the same chair. Thinking. Always thinking of him.

I dream of him everyday. _Everyday. _Even if they're nightmares of stopping the bullets with my body, or holding on to his hand and feeling it slip away as he falls down an abyss—I still hold the images, cradle them in my heart. Because It means I still get to see his face before he dies again.

Since the day I saw the black army I have seen no other being besides a nurse and Aro's constant lingering presence. Black coats guard but they're faceless, all the same. Never Charlie. I don't know where he is. I hide here in my room healing, or so Aro assures it's what I'm doing. _For the best._ My thoughts alone are my companion—and the ivory twins.

They look deadly and out of place sitting in a silver trimmed black box on my vanity. Contrast to a plush room with layered curtains of gold and white. Gold leaf trimmed crown molding and white carpets. A vanity of mirrors where even the legs reflect my sock covered unsteady feet. The walls are the most delicate, papered in patterns of gold and beige and white. Pillows of every size and textures. A chaise by the window. The books on a night table they brought for my entertainment. A hopeful distraction, maybe.

I look around at a king sized bed with a canopy at the head with silk and ribbons in sheer white. The same fabrics on the sheets and comforter I'm buried in on restless nights. Where I cry until my head wants to burst and I need meds again. Cool hands soothe my hair off my forehead when I'm delirious in fever and tears. Every night. The nurse finds me in sobs. I would feel shame if I felt anything at all. I don't even say a word.

I look around at this full, yet empty room. But this is nothing. I won't even begin to describe the living room or the massive den.

_Anything you'd like._

My stomach rolls. I'm bribed with _things._

Still, after weeks of not uttering a word to anyone, not a soul, I haven't made my decision. Aro's offer still stands and I'm stubborn. I cringe with anger and fear all at once when I remember. He reminds me everyday at breakfast, delivered to my new breakfast table overlooking the skyline by room service. He's patient.

He sits by me at the small table with legs crossed. Everyday a new suit to match the seriousness in his eyes. He insist on being here, without failing he accompanies me. He likes his coffee black, no sugar, in a tea set made of porcelain. His mannerisms meticulous in the way he holds his fork. There's a pattern to his movements I've noticed and counted again and again: Pick up the tea cup. Put it down. Check his watch. Take a bite of toast and chews. His index and thumb rubs a circular pattern on his napkin. Every move is choreographed and graceful.

His true age never shows when he looks up with a soft smile on his lips. Neither on his muscular arms, chest, hands or on the healthy skin of his face. The few age lines only enhance his looks against the light of day coming through the window.

Conversation is null. Awkward. Especially when he stares with a thinking finger to his jaw. But before he leaves he tells me, time and time again...

_Work for Renee, work with me. I'll give you anything. Anything you'd like._

Fuck him.

Healing is what I focus on so I'll have strength to run away. I've got all the locks memorized. The exits and windows I'll definitely fit through this time. I have a list. I've eyed the things I'll take when I do. Even my boots that seemed to have found their way in a closet I've never been in.

My finger presses hard on the embossing over the ivory tusk... where Edward's palm would curl around. I let go. It marks my skin. Then it fades away. I do it again.

The twins would go in the bag first...then everything else. Move. Run. Far away. I'd find Carlisle and the others first. Demand to see where they've buried him. If they even found his lifeless body. Or even care. If not, I would find his remains. I'd sleep on his grave and finally let go. I'll grieve. That's my plan.

I just wish the guns were left loaded. It would help much. Be they're here. I have them. At least. I sleep with one under my pillow every night.

"Tomorrow," he said before he left. Tomorrow he'll show me what was Renee's and what is now mine. Tomorrow I make the decision to stay and work with Nicholi Aro. Because _against_ him would be a living hell as he once threatened. I believed him when he looked deeply in my eyes. But its finally come to an ultimatum. Live or die.

Tonight, I'll spend it thinking.

—•—••—•

"Ma'am, it's time for your bath."

"Bella," I stare at her, shooting daggers. She doesn't call me anything but ma'am. _I am not a ma'am._

"I'm...sorry. Strict orders," the nurse excuses. For weeks I've been insisting but she always refers to me as anything but my name. I am still nameless.

"Well, when you're here, call me Bella. No one is listening."

"Ma'am, we must rush you along. Mr. Aro will be here to escort you in an hour," she ignores my request. How dare she? Anger bubbles up my neck.

She tugs me by my arm and I pull away angrily. I stand and blink. Taking a careful step and then another towards the bathroom. She follows along, hovering.

A routine follows of turning away from all mirrors and pulling my night dress off. Sometimes she has to help. Sometimes I manage myself. The steam is relaxing but it brings memories of a night in my own bedroom. I listened while he showered and watched warm steam seep below the ceilings to my prickling skin.

I sink into the deep tub and another memory of him. I can't take it. My heart aches..._everytime._ Everything is a reminder of _him_.

She leaves because I insist. I'm not a damn invalid. I float and daydream and try not to cry. I fail..._everytime. _

My goal is to get out of the tub everyday without her coming in to help. Some days I'm half way and she comes in with a scowl. Some days I don't have the will to try. Today, I'll make it out before she barges in again.

I wash my body and my hair. My breaths staggered and forced with a weak lung. But I try my hardest. Memories of the healing pools in the basement of the lab flood my mind. I wish I had them now. I would be healed by now and running far away from here. Incredulous to think I'd want them back, but I do. It would mean everything was as it used to be. I would be waiting for Edward to creep into my room at night, into my bed.

A sob peels from my chest. I struggle to lift myself up on shaky legs. I swing one out of the tub, and then the next.

The pride of making it out and standing diminishes in seconds._ I looked. _The mirrors lining the opposite walls reflect everything. Sorrow, anger and weakness standing in an empty lavish bathroom. The broken woman is more than so. Far more than so.

No wonder the nurse would look with knitted brows. Hold me more securely. Hover more diligently.

I swallow thickly at the sickly thin me in the mirror. Edward would hate what I've become. I would be ashamed to show him _this. _Ribs are far deeper than what I've felt with my hands. The red skin where the bullet and his fingers dug deep is bigger than I thought. A line follows where the knife cut through. It adds to the other scars I've collected in just a year since this began. _A year._

I reach for the robe with blurry eyes to cover it all up. The nurse walks in. She notices what I've seen. Her brows furrow again. She looks back into the empty bedroom and quickly closes the doors behind her.

"Bella," she whispers. And I breathe a sigh at my name. The way she says it, I finally look up at her. Really see her. Her dark soft curls are neat around her chocolate skin. Her features motherly and wise with years. She reaches my side and a hand on my shoulder. "You _will _get better. Tragedy never lasts forever."

"Does it? Because it seems like I've lived through it all my life."

"Not if God has control over it. You'll see the light."

"I have nothing. Nothing left," I murmur. I look in her dark honest eyes and she's suddenly different. She's not a stranger. Suddenly, I want to tell her everything.

"You have your life."

"I don't. I died."

She smiles kindly. "Then I must be talking to the dead," she shakes her head. She pulls out a towel from a cabinet and rubs it over my hair. "I see you, I feel you and I hear you. You are breathing."

I don't say anything. I look in the mirrors again and let her dry my hair. I should be doing that but my breaths are short, so I let her. After a long moment of uncomfortable silence she stops. Her intense gaze finds mine through the mirror.

"Child, I don't know what your story is. Where you've been or where you are going. But I do know one thing I've learned all my life as a christian woman, no man on this earth can take your life, your fate or your blessings away. Only God gives life and takes. Take refuge and strength in that and know that solutions are only a powerful prayer away. Don't pity yourself for what you don't have anymore. Use what you have left."

I blink. Shivers run through my spine and it straightens slightly. _Pity myself. Have I? _I've only noticed the pain and the lack of breathing well, let alone notice how I've looked to others around me. I swallow heavily with shame.

"Unfortunately, yes."

I look up, "What?"

"I've been here for weeks. You've barely noticed me drowned in your thoughts. I've watched you stand here, mope around, feeling pity for yourself." My shoulders drop. I spoke out loud again. "You're not trying hard enough to get better," she says while continuing to comb my hair.

_What? _My nerves spike in a millisecond. "Yes, I am," I seethe.

"You're not," she simply says. She turns away and opens double doors to the closet right off the bathroom. She reaches and switches lights to her right. The closet lights up with a beaming chandelier and soft lights hidden in corners. I look around and marvel for a second too long before I snap back to attention. Her back towards me opening drawers and pulling out underwear and socks for me.

"You don't know a thing about me!" I yell. "My whole life has been a lie! They killed my mother. My father traded me for money. He killed the only man I... I ever loved. My own _father!_"

"Don't exert yourself, child. You need to breathe." Her tone calm as she searches through drawers of marble and gold handles.

"And now I'm here! And..._God._..I don't know why I'm here! And I'm a fucking prisoner to a man who wants to kill me!" I grab on to the counter and I'm off. I feel the fury boiling my blood and I'm suddenly charging up to her on steady feet. "They faked my death, did you know that? I don't have a name. I don't have my life anymore!"

She slams a drawer and turns to me. I start. "And what are you gonna do about it?"

My lids flutter. I take gulps of air that can't seem to reach far enough. Her intense glare still fixed on mine. She waits.

She breaks our darting glare and looks down at my feet and back up again. "Seems like you found your footing. When was the last time you felt like this?"

I'm shaking. My limbs warm with electric currents flowing through my nerves. I look down at my clenched hands, my rising chest. I haven't felt so alive since...

"I can't remember."

She nods. Her face softening. "That's a hard life you got there. Too much for young girl like yourself. Thank you...for trusting me enough to tell me. But do you know what I learned on Sunday, sitting on my usual spot on the church pew? Pastor Jakes said that a life like yours—tragic, rough and heartbreaking—was meant for greatness. You are _made_ for greatness. A blessing is never gonna come easy. Pain is temporary, but glory lasts forever."

My chin is quivering before I have the chance to stop it. A tear slips. And then another.

She shakes her head, holding a sad expression. She tilts her head to find my eyes. Her hands run up my arms sending warmth to my heart, "They can't brake you anymore."

I collapse on her shoulder. For a moment, I let go. Everything. So much suppressed in my chest and I can't anymore. I cry on her uniform as she pats my back, rubbing circles that send shuddering breaths through my weak lungs. She doesn't say a word but for murmurs of comfort that are drowned by my loud sobs. She reminds me of my mother. Her words piercing through my heart. Words I've heard from Renee, once on a video. It's like they both know something I don't. Everyone but me. I've yet to see the light at the end of the dark tunnel I have to find on my own. So, I take in the warmth of a hug, even from a stranger, because I haven't felt it for so long from honest arms. And she lets me.

I feel her hand cup my chin, forcing me to look up at her. "What is it that you have to do to fulfill that greatness, Bella?"

A lot. So much. And Renee, the world, is depending on me.

_She has no idea._

I nod. I shake my head. I can't decide. And then I breathe, steady, for the first time in weeks. One single taste of air that is healing and energizing. I look up at the nurse who has transformed into a guardian angel.

"I don't even know your name," I whisper.

She laughs. Light and carefree. Bringing warmth into the expanse of a cold room.

I have made a friend in the midst of darkness.

—•—••–•

Dressed. A black casual dress with comfortable pockets and a thin belt to match the leather, toe buckled flats. Sue Clearwater and I chose them from the neatly packed closet. The tag on the dress says Prada. A style of dress I could've probably found at any clothing store for less. "Lord have mercy," said Sue when she looked too, pulling it off the hanger. But when she helped me pull it over my head I understood why clothes with tags like these are overpriced. Her hands smoothed over the flared skirt just over my knees and we looked at one another. The material luxurious under our fingers. It fit a bit too loose but the cut was crafted with care. We chuckled at the same time.

My puffy eyes and slight pressure in my forehead, the feeling of relief after hours of crying, is just a reminder that a smile is a miracle. I frown and Sue notices. Her hands find my cheeks briefly, but she lets go, slowly. I look up at her and her eyes are set over my shoulder. She turns and makes herself busy, putting away the blow dryer and brush she used to help me fix the nest on my head.

Her changed demeanor is understood when I feel the heat of intense eyes on my back. My spine straightens and I turn to look at the bathroom door.

Standing in a gray suit and black tie is Aro. The doors splayed open on either side of him. My brows furrow. Creeping fear and discomfort crawls my prickling skin. Disbelieved that he would actually walk in without knocking, let alone step in the bathroom I was just dressing in.

"Mrs. Clearwater, I thought I clearly mentioned 9am," he bites, but he's looking at me. He's angry. I gape in shock.

_How dare he?_

"Right sir, we just finished up. Just running a bit late," Sue smiles and stands at my side. She begins to walk towards the door to leave. Her head held high and calm. She doesn't fear him, I can tell, even as his eyes follow her every step. Her words from earlier still ringing in my head. It gives me strength.

"Excuse me?" My voice steady, firm and loud. I reach and stop Sue from taking another step. She turns and when she sees my expression she tries to hide a grin. I can see it at the corner oh my eye as I look at him. He stiffens.

"Forgive me Aro, but I didn't hear you knock. Did you, Mrs. Clearwater?" I glance at her. She mumbles a 'No' and looks at him. Aro blinks. His glare flickers to the floor. And for just that instant, I soar.

"Let me make something clear," I continue as I take a steady step towards him. He looks at my feet and his haunting blue eyes widen slightly. They roam up to my face. "You graciously offered me this...place as my new home, did you not?"

"Of course," he stiffly answers. His jaw sets tightly, bulging his temples under his neatly brushed blue black hair. His color reddens with anger or malice. I can't tell.

I can't ever tell.

"Then I'd like to be extended the courtesy of respecting it as such. Don't ever come into _my_ room, and certainly not _my _privacy without my consent. If you need to see me or speak with me, I ask that you knock and wait for an invitation to step through it. Is that understood?" I'm flushed. Hot with blood flowing up my neck to my cheeks.

His haunting eyes are shocked but narrow. His nostrils flare. His fists clench at his sides. I don't even let him respond.

"Please wait for me in my living room. Mrs. Clearwater and I will meet you there when I'm finished. Thank you."

I hold my breath. I hold my straightened spine from crumbling. I stare until he blinks and begins to move a muscle to leave. The silence thick with tension and violence. I bite the inside of my cheek when he takes a step towards me. I try, with everything in me to stand still. To stare him down. His breath catches where he begins to speak, protest, yell. Nothing comes, but a plump vein on his forehead. His straight sharp teeth are a barrier to his gape, forming into a silent snarl. He backs away as if to pounce if he took a step forward instead.

"Ten minutes," he has the last word. He leaves.

I start. The slam of my bedroom door ricochets against the walls straight to my chest.

Sue's shoes break the silence as she shuffles to close the doors again. She slouches slightly against them and looks at me.

"Shit." I slump against the counter and fill my lungs back up. "Shit, _shit..."_

Sue is silent and I look up at her. She's grinning at me.

"Sorry," I being to excuse my language. Certainly not proper in front of a woman like Sue.

"No," she shakes her head, "I am proud of you. _That's_ how you get it done. Besides..." she smiles and reaches my side. "I love Jesus, but I drink a little."

I laugh. My hands shaking as I wrack them through my hair. I take full, deep breaths.

"Go," she says, handing me a light black trench coat, "I'll clean up here." But I don't want to go. I stare at the coat, gold buckles and ties on shoulders and cuffs. My nerves still stirring my gut feeling that this meeting won't be anything I expect. Nothing Sue would ever expect. She doesn't know that the anger in Aro is aimed towards the truth of my resistance. My stubborn resistance to join him.

I straighten. Because there's nowhere else I can go. No other choice. I step out of the bathroom, into my bedroom and towards the living room. All for Renee.

When I do, as slowly as my steps would allow, I find Aro gazing out the floor to ceiling windows. His hands locked behind him. A shiver runs through me, even with the coat over me. But I remind myself to square my shoulders and lift my chin up. His demeanor could tower over the tallest man in the world. He moves and everything withers in his presence, seeming too small and weak.

And I just reprimanded him.

He doesn't speak. He tugs at his cuff-linked sleeve after pinching his tie. He watches me as he passively gates towards the front doors. Panther-like, ready to pounce. Black coats flank the exit when the doors open and I wonder if they guard at all times or wait for him. I follow and for the first time in weeks, Aro doesn't stand at my side helping my steps from staggering. I bite my lip to hold a grin. _He really is pissed._ I walk taller and breathe deeper, feeling stronger. But my knees weaken upon looking up. Paul is standing beside me. I instantly stiffen.

I reel with the irony of life. I've circled back to where I was running from, and now, trapped. He smirks.

I roll my eyes away from his face. Behind me I hear him chuckle once. I grit my teeth. My next step almost falters when I slightly bump into Aro's back. He's stopped and glaring at Paul menacingly over his shoulder. Paul clears his throat.

I hold my lips shut so I my grin won't show. Paul relaxes from his stiff pose when Aro turns. We continue walking.

I'm pathetic. I'm exhausted by the time we got to the car waiting in front at the curb. Despite the brisk air I can't seem to catch the fresh air well enough. The red carpet over the curb under the canopy of the hotel entrance is moving from under my feet. I look up and Aro's arms are around my waist looking down at me. His lips set in a line. I get angry at myself for even needing helping hands, or his arms that are around me. I try to pull away but he guides me into the black car.

I don't look at him, opting to stare out the window. The city buzzing. Cars passing rapidly getting where they need to go. People. Real people I have found to be in a different world...living. They move and run across streets and talk with friends and slip in and out of coffee shops. I don't even know what day it is.

I've walked through these streets too. I've driven the mini to get to my next job. And I never thought twice about this hotel. For the rich. Not my world. I'd pass by and live mine.

Now I'm living in the untouchable world, feigning to look fortunate and happy. If the old me only knew. _If she only knew._

I feel him watching me by my side. I ignore him. I just want to be. Thank God he doesn't touch me. I make sure he doesn't with twisted hands on my lap.

We arrive at a taller building. I don't remember this one. Never passed by it in my old life. He steps out and waits for me. He doesn't crouch inside to grab my hand like he's done before. He waits.

The walk to the private elevators are just as quiet. Paul appears behind me, with double the black coats and I wonder how they got here if they didn't ride with us. Then I catch myself because I don't give a hell. I try to walk faster to stay away from him and them.

The interior is expanse and expensive. Windows at all angles. Guards in all corners. They stiffen and look busy when they see Aro walking in. They tip their heads, stepping away to let him pass and never look in his eyes. Everyone seems to stop. Even the receptionist behind the massive desk. She dips her head and stands to greet him, passing by.

Black coats open the elevators and peer inside to clear the area. We go in. Aro allows me in and then steps in front of me. We're surrounded. Paul beside me. He looks down at me from the corner of his eye as the awkward jingles of a jazz song drifts through the elevator. Someone clears his throat. I scratch my temple with the wrong finger, making sure Paul sees. His lips press together amused at the offensive gesture.

I feel like I'm in La Push again, defending myself from the annoying immature boys. He hasn't changed after all. He still infuriates me with one stare.

When we arrive at another floor eons later it seems, Aro continues towards massive doors as everyone stays lingering outside of it. I hesitate. Another receptionist around my age, clad in a modern expensive skirt suit and heels stands by his office doors and hands him a leather notebook. He murmurs something to her firmly. She nods and leaves. Aro walks in through the open doors left ajar.

I look around me and no one moves or looks at me. I don't know if I should go in. I look to Paul and he's serious. He clears his throat yet again and his eyes flicker towards the open doors and back at me. My eyes narrow. He flicks his neck and nods towards them, this time more evident.

My gut feeling tells me he's helping me by hurrying me along. So I listen. I step closer to the open doors and peer inside. My stomach drops. The dark massive stone wall room swallows up a long table glowing in low light fixtures of vines. Along the multiple chairs, crowded in, are stiff men in suits. They all turn to stare at me. Including Charlie.

Aro stands at the end of the table, arm extended towards me. He curls his fingers for me to come when I hesitate.

I catch Charlie's eyes even if I try my hardest not to look. His expression numb, serious, calm. His eyes flicker towards Aro then to me. I feel like a child under his stare. His indication paternal, like he's silently rebuking me for being rude to an adult and embarrassing him. But I have no choice. So I do. I move from the threshold of the door. But not without glaring at Charlie the whole way until his eyes flicker away. To a cane at his side. Probably to help him walk after the bullet I put through his leg. I don't regret it.

"This is she," Aro speaks proudly beside me. His eyes sobered, turned kind. All anger faded away from this morning as he brushes my hair away from my shoulder. He turns to the line of men, introducing me. They smirk, others nod. "Please sit, darling." I wince at his words. I'm basically pushed into a swiveling chair when I don't move. I sit across from Charlie at the front row. He uncomfortably leans a few fingers on his temple, effectively blocking me from his sight.

_Coward._

Aro smiles down at me and beings to speak, "I gathered all my associates precisely for this meeting. We are thrilled to have you with us," he looks up, "It has been an endless wait."

I almost roll my eyes.

"Let's begin with our future plans for the cure serum and explain our history of handling it. We underwent many experiments to test it's true ability with limited resources. Eventually, it wasn't enough. But thanks to Renee and the Lieutenant's daughter, we now have a new strain to test; The Berry. Hopefully, this time, it will work. If it does...well," he smirks, "the world will finally witness a phenomenon," he nods, and steps away, "Dr. Vladimir."

Scientists truly do look gangly and nerdy. Dr. Vladimir looks the part. Tall, thin with mounds of brown hair at the top of his head. He wears the white crisp lab coat still. Pens and devices in a overflowing pocket. His beard shifting under his hidden sharp jaw. Eyes the lightest gray. And I notice he's not very much older than I am, still youth in his skin and dark strands of hair. Just drowning in wrinkled, dated clothes that don't fit. But he speaks and he's nothing of the above. He's intellect on a confident stick. With care and grooming, he'd be more handsome then he already is when he speaks. I pull myself from my mind and try to listen.

"Our third attempt at rehashing the effect of the serum resulted with more promise. But first, I'd like to present the timeline towards the goal. Exhibit A," he points to a wall I didn't notice. The stone wall is carved with demons and angels, fighting. Swords and delicate fabrics covering innocent figures with curved bodies and angelic faces. The scene taking the entire wall. Eerie and out of place for an office of business. But for Aro it fits.

The wall slides open and a large monitor beams behind it, setting a glow to the dark massive room.

"The first patient was weak. Radiation was used for exposure. The same kind you would find in a warhead missile but in extremely small quantities," he explains in the dark. The video feed showing a graphic illustration of charts and a human body outlined in blue. The serum inflicting the areas of the brain in red. The color fades. He explains, "As you can see, the patient wasn't affected by the serum. The cancer tissues grew more rapidly. The serum failed. He died."

_He? They were testing on humans?_ My blood runs cold. I look around me at the dark faces illuminated in a glow from the screen. No one seems to be questioning or even caring.

I sit up on my chair and grip the table. I feel faint with blood rushing to my ears and head. Suddenly I can't breathe. I look back at the monitor and the doctor moves on to Exhibit B. This time images of a man's weakening body lies on a metal table. Frames of his life deteriorating as the images evolved. He was once handsome and strong with signs of once being a soldier. His dog tag chain around his neck as proof. Every frame shows his strong features looking sickly.

"The serum seemed to work for an extended time. We multiplied the sample and tried it on more patients." More images of people. Even woman graze the screen. All dying. They once looked like soldiers before they turned to corpses. I am wide eyed. Watching the flickering images turn and shift. "Unfortunately the sample wasn't working. Their hearts stopped beating one minute apart."

I sit up with a gasp. Ready to stand and yell or scream and storm out—to do something. But I feel a strong hand on my shoulder. Aro gently pushes me back down to my chair. I'm trapped. It's like he knows what I'd do. The doctor continues to speak.

"Fortunately, early this year we were able to develop a new strain of the serum," he says, switching the screen. A video surveillance shows a man in a cement room. One just like the one I woke up in. He was well. Normal. Sitting at the cement slate with his elbows on knees. Quiet. Waiting. I couldn't see his face. His dirty blonde hair covering his face as he slouched. But he had bandages under his orange jumpsuit. Just like the one I wore.

"We examined him for months. Exposing him to many toxic gases that triggered the respiratory system and nervous system," he continues as the images change. This time the man on surveillance is fighting to escape out of the cement room. My mouth goes dry watching. His body climbing walls as poison filters through vents on the walls. He fights to find fresh air. Coughing. Heaving. Banging his body on walls as he staggers aimlessly. Screaming.

A lump in my throat forms just watching. _Oh God..._

But in that instant I grow numb. My heart drops. Because I know this man. I gasp. Corporal Whitlock's face finds the frame. His teeth in a snarl. His eyes possessed. He bangs with fits on the mirrored wall I looked through once too. Blood coming out of his shoulder and neck from the covered wound. They force deadly substance on him, leaving him no choice but to fight.

"You did this to humans?" I shout, "To innocent men?" I stand and Aro grips my side. I turn towards stiff men who look up at me through wide eyes. "How dare you use lives to test this!" Dr. Vladamir looks nervous. He steps away and looks down.

"Darling..."

"No! Get off of me!" I turn in Aro's grip and he lets go. Charlie sits up and his brows are knit with anger.

"Isabella!"

"YOU! You let them do this!" I launch myself across the table on hands and knees to hit him. To scratch his eyes out. _Anything. _He flinches back, standing on unsteady legs. Aro's strong arms grab my waist and I'm swung off. I fight to get on my feet, kicking. When I do, I push him away. He stumbles back onto the table. I look at Charlie's shocked face when he sees what I did. "Renee would hate this and you know it! She never wanted this! You fucking heartless bastards!"

Aro steps closer to me and I move away. "DON'T touch me." I seethe. Black coats storm in and everything is quiet. Even Paul stands gaping at me.

"Darling...we can explain."

"Yes! Explain this shit to me," my hands on my waist, "And you will not lie or miss a fucking detail!" I'm too enraged to notice the probable danger and stupidity I'm pulling right this very moment. A room full of armed powerful men and I seethe. They all stare, frozen, at the only person in the room who is the weakest, smallest, and an unarmed woman. Adrenaline makes all the pains in my broken body fade. My breaths strengthen with every heave. "SPEAK!" I yell.

"It worked." Aro hisses. I see the trembling anger in his every limb. His eyes darken. "The serum worked. The soldier was growing stronger everyday after the first injection to his blood stream." I look up at the screen where he points. Alice's patient, who's probably still in her care as we speak, had color to his skin. He lied motionless on a lab bed.

"But the sample was destroyed," Aro continues. I look at him. "We only had a small portion left. The soldier was gone one morning...and so were all of our years of work. Burned. Shattered. Gone." His jaw flexes with the memory. "It is why we needed the key implanted in you. We needed a new strand to try again. You are our last resort."

I look up at the screen and surveillance of figures in black with stealth movements invade the labs. They set fire over every floor. Killing guards with knives, guns and even swords. Multiple screens show up side by side on the monitor as different corners of the building. There is no sound to the feed but I can see the explosions of implanted bombs taking small areas. They planned it. Everything happening at once.

Security doors unlocked and prisoners who were all tortured like Corporal Whitlock, were set free. They hesitantly trickled out of cells, looking at all angles, marveled that they were finally unbound. They ran. Some helped and killed guards, scientists, with their bare hands. Men, soldiers, of equal skill and strength as the dark clothed invaders. They fight with anger of years of oppressions and run out to streets as surveillance follows their every move to freedom.

My heart pounds. Because through the chaos, haze and fog, I still see him. I know his every movement. The way he flicked blades, climbed walls and gripped the twins, pulling triggers round after round. The way he killed. Edward. _It was him. _

All of them. They came to save the soldiers. _Alice. Rose. Emmett._ Just four of them against dozens.

I try not to show my trembling hands, my panting, my weakened knees. I try to stand still and hold myself back from running up to the screen and touching his image.

_God, I feel him close_. Like he's still alive. Pieces of him even after he's gone and I want to cry. My eyes blur and I gasp. His face appeared clearly before he shot a surveillance camera. His eyes jade and dark with rage under a black mask.

The screen goes black. I turn to all of them. Silence stretches over the tense moment. No one moves or speaks.

"And how does this justify torturing human beings?" I ask, breaking the silence. "I don't see it. All I see are brave men doing what is morally right. Frankly, Aro, I should thank them. I would've done the same. I would've destroyed_ everything_." He tenses with every word. He huffs through his nose and glances behind him at all of his people. His fury showing through his clenched fists and flared nostrils.

"Really?" he asks, talking a step towards me. "Please amuse me for a moment, darling. Explain to me how destroying what your mother has been fighting to keep sacred helps anyone?" I stare in shock.

"Let me sink this fact into your pretty little head. To find solutions you must create conflicts. Experiments are necessary. In this case, sacrificing one will save millions.

"Do you want to save lives like Renee intended?" he pauses, expecting me to answer. I can't. "Of course you do," he smiles. He steps closer and from the corner of my eye I see Charlie taking a step back, anticipating an outburst.

"Tell me, how do you suppose we save lives with a solution that isn't sure to work?" he asks softly, eerily calm. His sharp, tantalizing ice blue eyes are set to sting with his words. "We wouldn't want to give false hope to the masses, would we?

"Science is a very...delicate subject," he continues. His head tips, skimming a finger over his jaw. He motions towards the screen. "It was small price to pay. I'd certainly do it again."

Speechless. Tremors of anger in my chest. _He's insane. _

Then I realize just how wrong this path will lead to under his full control. Destruction, and death of millions..._not one_. If he was careless with soldiers, why would he hesitate killing civilians? He wouldn't.

Renee needs me now more than ever. I cannot live knowing this injustice will continue. I have to continue what Edward, Alice, Rose and Emmett have started or Aro will take everything. He will take it all. And that thought alone sends a crippling fear inside my bones.

"I've made my decision," I nod. I scan every man's eyes and back again, "I accept your offer, Aro. I'll join you. But under one condition," I lift a finger, "No decision will be made without my consent. This is my inheritance. Not anyone's. Not yours. _Mine."_ I point to my chest, "I am my mother's daughter and _this..._will not ever happen again as long as I live."

He nods once, bowing slightly. "Of course," he says, "Anything you'd like. You won't regret it."

"I already have," I seethe.

I move. I collect myself, straightening my shoulders and steadying my feet and trembling legs. I walk out. And with every step, I vow that from this day forward, even if it costs me more blood and scars, I will find my greatness.

—•—•–––•

* * *

**A/N: Give them hell, Bella. Give. Them. Hell.  
Sue says to Have a little faith in me! Remember!  
I see you adding. Thanks a mil! Sorry for the lack of replies to reviews but I REALLY love to hear from you, especially the silent ones. :-) At least a "Hi." or "I'm reading." or "Please update soon." Love those. :-p**


	24. Chapter 23: Cute

**A/N I apologize profusely but the muse was gone and a lot of shit happened in life. Things don't always go the way I'd like. But this is rounding up to the end so maybe its why it's the hump before the finish line. The decisions and the plotting to make the puzzle work. It's...HARD.**

**I don't own twilight. But I sure as HELL own this shit. It caused me tears and sleepless nights and brain pain. And i'm damn well gonna finish the hell out of it. Just stay with me because it's gonna be a damn _ride._**

**Thank you to my Beta-B. You are the after affects feeling after I pass a kidney stone. Bliss. To my other readers and gals, Vantastic and Jelena. Love you for the support._  
_**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — an Ivory holder.**

—•—•—•

_**Sound: Lana Del Rey - Born to Die**_

—•—•—•

**Chapter 23 - Cute**

"Step away."

"You know I can't do that."

"I don't give a fuck what you can or can't do. Get out of my way."

"You're hilarious. Deranged bitch_,_ but hilarious. I don't know what Jake saw in you."

I stand straighter. Glaring. I will not relent. I'm sick of his shit and smart mouth. I refuse to let him hurt me. _Fuck him._ "I'm gonna ask you one last time. Step. The fuck. Away." He laughs.

"You know, you always were so ugly when you made that face..." he grunts. Loud. I don't let him finish as he doubles over. His knee hits the carpet with a heavy thud when mine connected with his dick.

"Old dogs, old tricks, Paul. You always were too slow to see that coming. Now, if you'll excuse me." I step over his whimpering frame and make it to the elevator...to freedom.

His hand reaches out and grips my ankle. I kick his rib. He grunts. "Fucking bitch!" he whimpers, attempting to get up.

I wiggle my fingers as the elevator doors shut. "Toorahloo...asshole."

My heart pounds in my chest. I'm doing this. I've been planning this for days. To leave. To be alone and away from the watch of black coats and Aro. Even Sue. I haven't felt the wind or fresh air cooling my lungs. I long for it. Crave it. I haven't stared up at the open sky, stars and moon to just breathe. To be. To feel like I'm part of this world even if my name isn't anymore.

Even the top floor penthouse of an expensive hotel isn't spacious enough for this longing and desperation in my chest. I need out.

So, I watch the numbers light up as I descend, and I breathe. I never knew I'd feel this way. Nervous. Anxious. _Scared. _At the prospect of freedom. I'm a grown woman. A human, still—I've come to terms with that with the help of Sue. Yet, I have to sneak out of my own apartment to find freedom. And It wasn't easy.

Patterns. I've followed patterns of movement outside my door. A pair of black coats stand guard outside at all hours of the day. They take shifts. I write a schedule on a fancy notepad with a gold pen to keep track of their faces, scars, features. I don't know their names.

Paul stays guard every other night with a nameless man. He smirks and watches me go when Aro takes me out for more meetings. He smirks again when I come back. But I see the malice and hate in every curl of his lip. He's just like the rest of them. He's just like Jake. Yet, I find strength in knowing one thing everyone else doesn't. I watch him from the peephole when I quietly sneak up to the door. The nameless black coat by Paul leaves to get coffee for half an hour. On the dot, without fail. Paul is left alone.

The loophole.

And there's another thing I know that one else does. I killed Jake. And I swear, if Paul smirks at me one more time, I'll use a bullet when I find them tonight. My mission. A practice run. I need them to reinforce the courage I found in Aro's office that day.

I wracked my brain figuring out a way to get out of this place. To find out a way. And I did. So, I have. Then what? I needed a plan. I know now.

I'm out to find a guy I once knew. Lifetimes ago, but I remember him. Back when I was working at the newspaper we worked with him to get us inside information on high profile people. He was our P.I., our personal investigator when shit got too deep. Whatever anyone needed, he provided. I need, I know he'll help me. I just hope he's still where I think he is.

I hastily step out of the elevator. I stop. The lobby is full of guards. _Shit. _The lift across the narrow hall dings. A good looking couple steps off. I fidget looking away as I tug on my black hoodie and the leather jacket I found in the closet. My boots squeak, shuffling over the polished floors familiarly. I clear my throat. The tall, thin, elegant woman flirts with the man caressing her backside. They don't notice me. I take a breath and jog behind them and act like I'm with them. The guards barely look up. But the man does.

He looks at me when he senses my presence. His brows furrow. I smile sweetly and give him a small wave as I slink by him. "Pardon me," I whisper grazing his arm. His face softens. He smirks. The kind that irks and sends creepy shivers up your spine. _Gross, but _w_hatever it takes. _The woman doesn't even notice the exchange as she searches her purse for a lipstick.

My heart pounds in my chest. Paul should be at my heels. And just then, the elevator down the lobby dings. I speed up. I dare not to look back. I push pass the tall man who holds his gaze and finally...finally I step out into the night. Air. Life. Breeze. He has no idea this isn't a late night stroll for me like any other person. I run. I truly and really run.

For the time being, it's freedom.

—•—•—•

My chest feels the bass, seeping through my bones. The music is heavy and loud. Bodies gyrate to the beat with arms around waists and necks, high and free. Drinks and laughing faces swarm the dance floor and bars on every corner of the dark nightclub. Beams catch my eyes in colors. They pour over the sweaty skin, making everyone glow. The cage dancers work it close to touchy men and even women with purpose. The beautiful people are out tonight and the night is young.

I cover my bare shoulders as soon as I enter the club. I dressed for the occasion underneath the layers. A Fendi halter top with a thick gold chain holding up the thin material, because a great personality never gets you anywhere in this dark hole. Not even a bare, pretty face. The dark makeup I fixed over my eyes and lips by the dumpster outside of the club are stashed in the Gucci purse. I found it in the closet along with the tall stilettos. The purse's handle is a thick, long chain and perfect to swing across my shoulder. _Just in case I have to run. _I never knew expensive clothing could be so efficient for escaping, running and getting what you want. The bouncer at the entrance of the club scanned his eyes over me and done.

I look around. The top windows overlooking the dance floor is where I need to go. Shadows move around the dimly lit quarters. He's there.

I crouch in a corner where it's dark. A couple moans beside me, deep in their public pleasure fest. Not even noticing me change to my boots and stuffing the stilettos in the bag.

I make my way through the crowd. Sashaying around shoulders and flailing arms, avoiding getting bumped into and failing. Fucking hair from a deranged dancer flicks my face. I elbow her out of the away and continue walking. I always hated this place. It's still the same. Some things never change.

The fluorescent glowing staircase leading up to double doors is still the same too. And my heart drops when I see the men guarding them as always. I won't get through without starting a commotion or getting kicked out.

I fidget looking around me for another door, another way in. Nothing. All I find are wandering eyes from a bar close by. I roll my eyes, giving my back to the tight leather clad man with a beer in hand.

A guard moves. I stand on my toes to see him disappear into a dark hallway. I try to get closer. The other guard touches his ear bud and looks my way. I turn. A glass with ebony liquid sits on a table. I grab it, bringing it an inch to my lips but not tasting it. I step further into the dance floor and stand by a grouping of tall women.

The windows up top show more movement inside. A shadow of a man stands in the center of it. A lit, smoking cigar in his hand and I know it's him.

I want to wave. Jump and call his attention. But it's useless. Hundreds of people and he won't see me.

I look down. I tense. The guard is looking straight at me. _Shit. _I look too suspicious. They'll throw me out at any moment. The shadow man is still standing there.

And then it occurs to me. I need the attention. I need to see him. A commotion is just what I need to get him to see me. _Whatever it takes._

I bump into a tall woman and she looks over her shoulder at me. Her hand empty and slightly extended. Her brows furrow in annoyance and her lips part to probably tell me to fuck off. But don't let her. I slip the glass in her hand and walk away. Forgotten.

I look over my shoulder and the shadow man is still watching. I need something. Anything to call his attention.

The cage dancers. A practically naked woman moves her hips to the deafening beat in tall glitter stilettos. I climb the pedestal with a quick hop.

"Hey!" she yells. Her fake nails claw at my jacket. I push her away, invading her space. She squeals. Her heels slip from under her and she plummets over a crowd of men standing just under us. They easily catch her and she makes her way to running security as she's surfed through the crowd.

People holler and whistle. I don't care to notice a smile plastered on her face as they are giving her the attention she has been seeking all night.

I look up at the windows and I do nothing. I don't need to. My heart quickens when a red light switches on and I see his face. Knitted brows, and squinting eyes as he steps closer to the glass.

Eleazar smiles.

I can't help but smile back. He's familiar, from my old life. I can breathe again as I lift an arm and simply point at him. His smile widens when he shakes his head.

"You gonna let me up?" I mouth shrugging. He flexes a finger to come.

"Alright, lady come on," a guard pulls me down by my waist. I barely touch the ground as he drags me through the crowd towards the double doors. People stare. Women, who would give their left ovary to be in Eleazar's close proximity, glare. I've seen many visits to his office happen often. He's a good looking player with impressive tricks.

I'm enveloped in Eleazar's muscular arms when I'm led into his quarters. His scent of musk and sweet cigars. My eyes can't help but flutter. I hug him tightly around his wife beater and warm skin, decorated in intricate tattoos.

"Mi Bella," he murmurs into my neck. His Spanish switching seamlessly, rolling off his tongue. He pulls me away arms length to look at me.

"Azar. Good to see you," I nod. His eyes scan my body from hair to boots. I squirm. He pulls a stray strand behind my ear.

"Fucking gorgeous and walking dead," he breathes, "How?"

I shrug. "I have an antidote for death, I guess." He stares at my nonchalant response—that is partially true. He wouldn't know about the Berry.

His face falls with sincerity, "Sabes que lloré por ti?" My gaze falls. My heart hurts. To know that many of my old friends heard the news of my death. Grieved. Even making him shed tears...for me. Sadness fills my lids with prickling tears the same.

"I'm sorry I made you cry. But it's a very long...exhausting story. You wouldn't believe..."

"Macho," he suddenly calls over my shoulder at a guard. "Two of the usual. It's gonna be a long night."

He turns me towards a couch by my waist and pulls me beside him. I lean against his chest. "And what's my usual? I forget." I say as he caresses my hair. I trace an inked image of his years in prison over his ear, his skull. It's shaved there in a neatly, tamed mohawk.

His color is the richest mocha. The lines of ink across his chest and shoulders are a collage of life. Even death. He's been through ten lifetimes and back with the street experience he's gained. Respected. Wealthy. And his honest fossil eyes go deep where his true business savvy shows. Black market is how he made much of his money. His skills are epic and self taught; wicked charm mixed with the danger of aggression

Years before, he lost a great deal of family to jobs gone wrong. He settled into owning a high-end nightclub to live quiet and this around me is anything but. He's admired by many and too much by women. Which is probably why our friendship never went further than a bond. But I always knew his feelings went further than that. Even when I'd visit to ask him for the latest street scoop when a job at work was too secretive, I knew.

I, on the other hand, still squirm in his intense stare and good looks. Reasons for his affection is beyond me. _I attract the bad boys. _I brush fingers over my hair while he stares.

"Usual? How could you forget? It's always what I'm having." The drinks arrive and I sniff the strong alcohol.

"Hennessy?"

"On rocks. Just as you like it."

My nose scrunches. "It's nice of you to remember. I'm...touched."

"Worst it can do is bring you back to life." His throat bobs as he gulps it down. The ice clinks. I look away. "But I guess something else already did. Start talking."

"Well, I'd rather...show you." His eyebrow lifts. I sit up to grab my purse. I pull the twins out—one by one. Metal on wood is heavy and loud on the coffee table.

"Fuck," he whispers. "You came here to kill me? Before my second drink?"

I hand him my full glass, "On me." I settle back on the couch and watch him. He stares at the guns with intense focus and doesn't speak. The dark liquid in my glass disappears through his full lips and he swallows. He chews on a piece of ice, flexing his jaw. A hand rubs his mouth down to his neck. He sits back.

"I know that set," he says. I tense looking up at him.

"What?"

"I worked on them. Put the chip in and rebuild the Ivory grips and barrel myself," he crosses his arms over his chest. His biceps bulge.

"When?" I sit up. My heart speeds. _What does he mean?_

He whistles under his breath. "Long time ago. Four? Five years ago?"

"How? I...don't..." I stammer. He looks at me.

"I ask you the same question. What the fuck are you doing with these?" he points, his brows crease with anger. "They're fucking dangerous. You could get hurt."

I push a laugh through my nose. _If he knew._

"Bella," he lifts my chin up to look at him. "Do you have an idea who these belong to?" I gulp a heavy lump. I do. _God, if he only knew. _

I look away. Just the mention of Edward I feel like I'll crumble. _Of course I know. I will always know._

I manage a nod.

This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come. Stupid. I grab them and stuff them back in my purse. Fuck it, he won't help me. No one will ever understand.

"Bella."

"No. It's fine. I should go."

"Bella, wait," He seethes, pulling my arm. Rage fills my eyes and fists. I yank my arm away.

He looks at me and only manages a blink. "You know him," he finally utters.

"And apparently, you too and you never told me! So many times I asked and you didn't tell me?"

"It wasn't for me to tell," he says shaking his head. I sigh, pulling on my hair. "He needed them fixed. I helped him because, fuck it, he was doing this fucked up city justice. He got rid of all the dirtbags," he shrugs, "It was a job. It was money.

"But it was long ago, Bella. I couldn't tell you even when you were determined to find him. It wasn't for you to find. I was saving you from all that shit... from him. Besides," he rubs the back of his neck as he pauses, "I haven't seen him in a minute."

"He's dead," I seethe. He straightens and stares at me. His lips part, showing his sharp teeth. His eyes narrow.

"You finally found him."

"No. He found me," I shake my hazy head. "He...died because of me. Because... there's so much shit you don't even know about, that is bigger than you...me. And I'm in the middle of it. _He_ was in the middle of it. He saved my...life." I rub at tears angrily.

"I lost him. He's gone," I whisper. "It's why you have to help me." He watches me. His jaw flexes with gritted teeth.

He finally takes a step and I let me him. He cups my face. His is worried as he looks down at me. "Consider it done, Mi Bella. Anything." Relief when I press my face to his chest.

"I need bullets." I look up at him. "I don't know where to go and... I need them. And..." I go mute. He lifts a hand, saving me from going on and on.

"I'm assuming he taught you how to handle them?" I nod shrugging.

"Enough."

"There's good reason then. A crazy fucker like him wouldn't bother if it wasn't for something." he shakes his head in wonder, "Jesus." He lets me go and turns towards a set of black doors. The room is red with slick black furniture I didn't bother to notice. He's done well for himself. "Ven, follow me," he says over his shoulder.

He punches a few buttons on a mechanic pad. His hand scans next. The doors unlock and swing open. He steps into a dark room until lights twinkle on one by one as he walks.

Damn. Cement dark walls gleam over mounted guns along the walls. Lighting over them in hidden places show off their details. Knives of every shape and size on another wall. A computer station with multiple monitors sit on one corner of the dark space. Lights come from the cement floor over the edge of the walls. Shit you would see in a James bond movie.

It reminds me of Edward's cabinet at the Lab's basement. I bite my lip remembering.

Azar walks over to a tall metal cabinet table in the middle of the room. His work station i'm guessing.

"Take a seat," he points to an ugly recliner nearby. I look at it and it's out of place in a modern space like this. "It's my favorite, I couldn't get rid of it. Just sit." I chuckle as I walk over.

The beat up leather squeaks when I move. "Classy."

"Says all the ladies," he says pulling on cabinets looking for something. He settles on one and digs in, moving things around.

"Fucking, ew."

"Fucking awesome. Good times. Now, explain to me why you need ammo for the guns of the most infamous killer?" he looks at me with a key in hand he found in the cabinet. I sigh.

"You have secrets. I have mine. Let's just say they...fell into my hands." He looks at me. His eyes narrow.

"Touché," he nods, "Ok, I get it. For you to know and for me to find out," he taunts. "And I will. Not everyday I get a pretty girl comes in to get guns fixed up."

I don't respond. Last thing I need is for Azar to be in danger because of me. I don't want anyone else risking their life. Not like Edward risked his. The less he knows, the better.

"So, Masen wasn't really killing for his own amusement then," he tries again. A knowing smirk lifts at the corner of my mouth.

"Nope."

"Wow."

"Understatement." I watch him unlock a cabinet. He pulls out small black boxes and stack them on the table. He leans there with open palms and looks at me.

"Do I know them?"

"I can bet on my life you do."

"Who?"

I shake my head. I look away. He watches me intently.

"That bad."

I look at him from under my lashes.

The vein on his forehead plumps with every tense second. "Fuck," he runs a hand through his face and hair. His abs flex under his shirt as he paces. I feel like he'll blow at any moment. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"How could I?"

"They're the ones who killed you off," it wasn't a question. I nod. "The news said it was Masen. Did you know that?" I run my fingers through my hair. I try to breathe steadily.

"Of course they would say that. It's not surprising." He looks to be in deep thought. We're silent for a moment. He looks up from under his lashes.

"How did you get here tonight, Bella?" he finally asks. He tilts his head. I look away. I try to hold back a wince.

"I escaped," I whisper. His fists clench.

"Ask me..." he says pausing. He makes me look at him with the intensity radiating off him. "Ask me and I'll take you away from here where no one will ever find you. I can save you from this."

"No," I don't hesitate. I shake my head. "I have to go back."

"Bella," he protest. I stop him with a raised hand. I stand and walk up to him. His lips part to speak again but I don't let him. My fingers covers them to keep him silent.

"I was saved already. He died trying." His brows knit when he pulls me into his chest. He lets me hug him quietly for a while. And I silently thank him and take advantage of comforting arms. "You can help in other ways though," I speak into his shoulder. I straighten. "I need a lot of...things." I gesture to the twins. "Just in case."

He nods, but says nothing. He gets back to work with a sigh. I watch for a while until he breaks the silence.

"The day Masen came to me for help he barely uttered a word. Mysterious fucker. Have to admit he scared the shit out of me with his military buzz cut and death glare. But I managed to ask him why he needed these fixed. You know, out of curiosity and shit," he chuckles as he pauses, "He said he wasn't paying me for questions and told me to fuck off," he laughs, "He sat back on recliner and pulled out a blade to play with."

I swallow a lump in my throat, eyes prickle. "He sat there?" My voice barely a whisper. Azar nods, lifting an Ivory to inspect it. I tense, looking back at the chair I was sitting in. I hesitantly wander back to it and run my fingers over the arm, hoping Azar doesn't notice. I imagine Edward with short hair and darkness in his eyes. "Charming wasn't he?"

Azar lifts the gun and peers through a detached barrel he pulled off. "Good people." He snaps the barrel off the other Ivory. "Still doesn't explain why you have these. I mean, they were his father's set. He would never let anyone touch them."

My spine straightens. I blink. I turn and walk over to the table. _His what? _"Father's?"

"He let up after a few visits with a whiskey or two. He liked his whiskey. Told me he got them when he escaped the military. Some guy gave them to him after helping him break out when he got that nasty scar."

I look away at a wall but stare at nothing. He never told me where he got the twins. _His father's? Why would his father have twin guns? Maybe he was a killer just like Edward. _My brows furrow knowing he never told me about this. "Do you remember who the guy was who helped him?"

"No, he never said much after that." It must've been Carlisle who gave them to him. It only means he knows who Edward's father is. I vow to one day find that bastard and avenge him for Edward.

"What else are you keeping from me, Azar?" I murmur while he pulls out shiny, metal bullets out of a black box. They're long with red tips.

"Besides telling you that these need to be cleaned, nothing else," he gestures to the pieces. He takes thin brushes out of cabinets and a black wax in a tin. The day Edward sat at the foot of my bed cleaning them floods my mind. I would give it all to be on that bed again watching him.

"Teach me." I want to learn. Anything he knew I want to know too. Azar hands me a brush. I mimic what he does to the other Ivory.

We're quiet for a long while as my mind wanders to Edward's hands working on these. Every stroke of his fingers and watchful serious eyes on each metal piece.

I miss him.

I finish up snapping the last piece on an Ivory. Done. I immediately reach for the bullets.

"Careful," he hisses. I ignore him and grab a handful. He huffs beside me, his hands ready, fearful of flying pieces. I snap each bullet in the magazine like I've seen Edward do, my thumbs flicking off the red tips as I go. He watches intently. I feel his eyes roaming my fingers to my face. Only the sound of clicking metal fills the silent room. He breathes deeply.

"He's good," he murmurs.

"What?" I continue to work keeping my focus.

"How he can make a woman's skin flush with warmth, eyes dilate at the mention of his name and keep her from crumbling under the circumstance even after his death. The bastard is good." I stop. I don't look up when his fingers follow his gaze up my neck. He tugs at a lock of hair behind my ear. "I'm envious."

I swallow and my throat thickens with emotion. "That obvious?"

"Shows in every pore of your skin," he whispers. I catch a glance from under my lashes, sheepishly. His eyes are anything but suggestive. His brows are a sad display of concern. Pity. My jaw squares. I hate it.

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore," I say, jamming the magazine in a twin. I cock it. "He's gone now."

He quietly stands still beside me, watching my face. "Doesn't keep you from loving him," he finally says.

I can't breathe. It hurts so much to hear that. I try my hardest from dropping to the floor, screaming and just...letting go. To his eyes, I'm indifferent as I check my aim toward a blank wall through the small slit. I tighten my grip, straighten my arm.

It feels...right again.

"There," he suddenly points to a wall far away. On it a black matte with red circles like a target. I look up at him. He stands behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. His thumbs dig into my blades. My spine straightens. I gasp. I look down at his boot covered foot when he taps my legs apart. I stand to my side with one foot behind me. Steady. He grabs my extended arm. He positions it correctly. I swallow, watching his hands run down my straight arm to my wrist. He moves the Ivory deeper into my fist. "Try it," he insist.

"Now? Right there?" My nerves spike instantly. My eyes cut to the target and back at him.

"No. Later. At my face. Of course now—shoot," he orders. He walks slowly towards my side, his eyes on mine all the while. "Can't aim if you don't look, Bella. Eyes on target."

My eyes flicker to the red circles far away. I breathe. His lips by my ear and a hand around my hip.

"You showed me how to load it, now show me how to use it."

I hesitate. The target is too far. My arm is already growing tired. My aim shaky. I can't but I don't want to show it.

"Bella."

I press my lips together. A heavy breath pushes through my nose. _This is harder than it looks. _

"Just imagine it," he whispers, sending warm heat down my neck. "Them. _Him_. That instant when you wanted with all your strength to do what they did to _him_. How did it feel, Bella? How did it make you feel?"

My vision blurs. I see red. Edward's face full of blood. His wide eyes looking into mine. Knowing that it would be the last time before he died.

_Rage. _

I don't even notice Eleazar step away as shot after shot ricochets through my arm. My teeth grind and I'm gone. I don't even count.

_Click. Click. Click. _

Azar's cold fingers slowly graze my wrist to my grip. I stop. The Ivory's barrel smokes. Empty. Every shot blown from within. I blink. His other arm curls around my waist from behind me and he pulls me into an embrace. He pushes his face into my hair and slowly exhales. I do the same. My heart pounding.

I focus beyond my extended arm, hand and Ivory. The target is shredded. Red circles are dotted with dark holes close to the center.

"That was..." he breathes, pausing, "That was..._motherfucking _hot," he whispers against my nape. The silence is broken with his breathless confession. I laugh. My tense shoulders collapse and I laugh. "I'm so fucking hard right now," he groans pressing into my back. A heave wheezes out of me. I cover my face with my other hand and I cackle.

"You're such a fucking pervert," I mutter through my quiet fit. He chuckles like he's in pain. His forehead on my shoulder. My arm still extended.

"Coño," he curses and steps away with a moan. I look back just in time to see him adjust himself. My lips press together, holding back a smug grin.

He grabs the other loaded Ivory and turns to me. "You're not leaving here until I'm confident you're able." He cocks it. He slips it in my empty hand. Ready.

And my smile fades. Just like that. I know what he's doing. This...has become a training. Because there is good reason. A dangerous reason that was after me and has now taken over my life. Suddenly, I'm reminded what I came for and shouldn't be taken lightly. It's a lesson on surviving.

"Again. Bull's eye or nothing," he says. And he's serious.

After more than two hours I'm exhausted. My eyes are closing when he lightly taps my cheek a couple times. I breathe through my nose deeply and sink into the recliner, spent. "Good work," he calls. I nod. My arm is tired. My chest throbs with the force. My index fingers and hands ache. Round after round of bullets. He switched them to blanks after a while.

I don't know how Edward did it..._everyday._

He stuffs boxes after boxes of bullets in my Gucci bag. A single Ivory next. I watch numbly. He turns and goes to a glass case with blades. He takes four out in their black straps. Small. The size of my hand. He stuffs those in along with the bullets.

"What's that?" I begrudgingly stand to take a better look.

"Just in case. I want you to practice. Find a spot and try to hit it again and again." He shows me one. The handle is curved to slip easily in your palm. The double blade is short and wide. The metals are brushed; shiny and matte. They look kind of feminine.

"They're...cute," I say, flipping one. He stares at me.

"Don't ever call them that. When they rip through eyeballs and jugulars, they're anything but..._cute, _alright?" he snarls. I shrug. He pinches my side. I squirm away. "This..." he lifts the other Ivory, "Should be on you at all times. It won't do any good in your _cute_ purse." He pulls me by my belt loop and turns me by my hip. I feel the metal slide into the back of my pants, over the lace underwear I found in the closet.

"Well, well..." he snaps at a strap from my thong. I slap his hand away. He chuckles darkly pulling me against him. His fingers skim inside my jacket collar, over the thick chain of my halter top. "Shit," he murmurs, pulling my jacket open. He stares. "You had this on all this time? And nothing was done about it? I'm hurt, Bella." He pulls on the thin material.

"Stop," I snort, slapping his palm from moving further up and under. He pulls me again. Roughly. I look up. He's serious.

I feel a flush creeping up my neck. My nerves spike, my heart quickens when he's close. Too close. I look away. He kisses my forehead instead.

I sigh, shaking my head. Wishing everything was simple and I could be normal again. But nothing is the same after _him._

He pulls the jacket closed and zips it. "You've changed," his meaning in more ways than one. The clothes...the guns...the reject. "I'll always be here if you need me. You know that right?" he says against my cheek.

"Just...promise me," I desperately plead, "Don't follow me. Don't try to help." Aro will take him out without a question. God if he knew... he'll kill Azar and everything that's left of him.

Azar nods. A lingering kiss on my cheek. His nose skims my skin as he pulls away.

"C'mon." He pulls me towards the door. It's time to go back. I swallow thickly and I don't want to go back.

Once we're back in the main room, he's distracted with his guards. I wander. Probably to avoid the inevitable. The room is spacious and all the furniture faces the large windows over the dance floor. I walk up to the windows at the far corner where there's a shadow and black walls. I watch. People are going about their business, lost in a forgetful, yet eventful night. The dancer is back on her pedestal. Her onlookers give her more attention than she probably had in a week. I shake my head.

I look up when I hear commotion from the doors. Azar has new visitors. I shift my feet to begin walking. Perfect timing to leave I guess.

I freeze. Just where I stand.

My blood runs cold.

Azar is holding a woman around her waist. She's wrapped around him, licking a trail up his neck to his lobe.

And I know her.

Heels in black and combat boots with steel toes stride by her red stilettos. And I know who those belong to.

Jelena leans in to give Azar a kiss on his unoccupied cheek. James nods and watches the brunette leach rub herself all over Azar's chest.

"James. Ladies," Azar welcomes them.

I'm tense in the shadow. My hands begin to shake. I cover my mouth to keep from sounds coming out. _Oh God... _I look around me and there's no other way out. I hide further into the enclosed corner where a frame is displayed behind me. No a single light shines over me.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Azar asks.

Jelena moves to a bar and sits. Her long legs cross, her skirt rides up. James follows but leans instead. The burnette doesn't leave Azar's side as she runs her long black nails over his black wife-beater. He grips her wrist and I see his discomfort. He tries to hide it.

"I think you know why," James speaks. He takes a drink from his scotch when they're placed in front of him.

Azar cuts his eyes at me over the brunettes shoulder. He begins to gesture towards me with a hand as I am tucked far away. He stops. I shake my head slowly, wide eyed. Praying, pleading he gets it. That he won't call my attention. His brows furrow.

For a long beat, he wears the same expression and then he gets it. His brows relax, replacing them with disbelief. His face pales. His eyes widen slightly. He looks at James discreetly who begins to speak. "Just paying a visit. See if you've made your decision yet."

My heart is pounding. I reach behind me and touch the hard Ivory. But nothing. Not here. They'll kill Azar. They'll kill me. My teeth grind. _What are they doing here? How do they know one another?_

My stomach churns as my mind runs. _Azar is one of them. Azar lied to me. _

But he looks anything but pleased. His arms tense. His fists clenched. The vein on his forehead is peeking out minutely. I know Azar. I know how his anger looks like. Azar is on the verge of violence.

"I told you, I work alone," Azar calmly replies. He switches the brunette to his other arm. She purrs and drags a finger nail down his cheek. Jelena's light laugh rings between the glass on her lips. She puts her drink down.

"You're ridiculous. Of course you do," her voice sweet and conniving. She flicks her strawberry curls over her shoulder. She looks to be in her element. Different from when I saw her in Carlisle's office. Her clothes less... proper.

James interjects, "You're just what we need. Aro insist."

Like a virus. They're spreading. Finding reinforcements for the army wherever they can. Azar isn't shaken. He's stubborn and stands his ground. If he looked at me with those yes, I'd fear him. He barely tilts his head and his guards flank him. The double doors to the room opens. I watch as more guards snake in. All ready to pounce.

"Macho, get me Rick. I need a word with him. We have some business to finish here," Azar orders over his shoulder. He doesn't look. James smirks, matching Azar's.

Azar detaches from the brunette and strides towards a chair behind a massive mahogany desk. He pulls a black dress jacket off the back. He slips it on calmly. The cross around his neck gleams as it sways across his chest. He sits and pulls the brunette over his lap. She's more than willing to comply.

A bead of sweat drips down my nape, my temple. My limbs won't stop shaking. I press myself to the black wall behind me. No one sees me and I try my hardest to keep it that way.

Quickly, Macho enters followed by the guard I saw outside the double doors at the dance floor. Rick. He glances at James, a smug grin across his lips. James turns his face and takes a drink. As Rick turns to face Azar, he hides the grin.

"Did you leave your post to take a shit or a leak without permission tonight?" Azar doesn't look up as he asks. He caresses the brunettes ass pressed to his thigh.

"No, sir. I was present at all times."

"Really? So explain to me how our guests let themselves in to my quarters." I cut my eyes to James and Jelena. They look unphased. They glance at one another and back at the scene in front of them. Something in their knowing expressions.

Rick reddens. He looks back at James and nervously shuffles his feet. He turns to Azar, head down, and mumbles something incoherent.

"Speak the fuck up, Rick. I can't hear you." Azar is angry. My skin crawls. _What is happening? _

"I...I let them in, sir," Rick finally musters weakly.

"I'm going to ask you one question and you will answer honestly or I'll bury a hole in your throat." Rick nods. He's sweating. His massive stature quakes from suit jacket to polished shoes. Azar speaks after a tense pause, "Are you employed by Nicholi Aro?"

I gape. I watch Rick's whole face grow pale. James, on the other hand finds this amusing. Jelena looks bored. The brunette is oblivious to anything but Azar's lap as she writhes.

This isn't their first visit. They've been here before to get Azar to join. Badgering him until he gives in. I understand now Azar's anger. His discomfort. They are not welcome here, or have even been. Rick is a mole amongst Azar's employees.

I pull out the Ivory from behind me as slowly as I can muster. Because my gut feeling tells me, that at any given second, there will be blood...and Azar is the ticking bomb.

Rick turns back to James. But there's no help there. James shakes his head, telling him in silent words that he's on his own. He dismisses him, taking a nonchalant drink. "James," Rick pleads. He turns to Azar, "Sir, please..."

_BANG. _Rick hits the floor. The room shakes.

I start. Quickly, I cover my mouth, holding back a yelp. The hole Azar threatened never aimed for his throat...but for the spot between Rick's eyes.

Click by click by cocking click, all of Azar's guards pull out a gun. They're all aimed at James and Jelena. The still smoking gun in Azar's hand is now pointed at the brunette's jaw with an arm around her back.

"Like I said...I don't play well with others," Azar speaks. Acid in his voice.

No one moves for a long tense moment. James finishes his drink without a nervous bone in his body. He moves the ice around his mouth and spits it out, slamming the glass so hard on the bar it shatters.

"Sloppy. Stupid. He wasn't any good anyway," he stands and nudges Rick's lifeless body with his boot. He tugs on his belt and then his hair. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Aro will be delighted. I'll send him your love."

Jelena stands.

"Vanessa," she calls to the brunette still on Azar's lap. The gun digging in her skin is not a threat. It's a game. She pouts as she's ordered to leave his lap. But she doesn't let go without groping him through his slacks. Azar doens't react but with menacing eyes still framed on James.

"You owe me," Vanessa purrs. She kisses the corner of his mouth. Failing to persuade him, she moves. Her only purpose in being here, I'm certain. She flicks her hair and like a pin drop, everyone hears her earring fall. "Oops," he giggles. She bends. Her backside rubbing over the length of him again. But Azar isn't looking, even as she's looking over her shoulder. She grabs the piece of metal and starts to stand. She looks up.

Our eyes meet.

My stomach drops and so does her jaw slightly. She gasps to speak, pointing. But she doesn't get to. Azar covers her mouth and pulls her over him. He digs the barrel on her neck again. He looks at me with eyes wide.

_Fuck. _I swing the Ivory to my front and cock it_. _Everyone turns to look.

Jelena stiffens when she's looking down my barrel pointing between her eyes. James' face goes from calm to murderous. He reaches inside his black coat.

"Uh, uh," I shake my head. I take a few steps towards them. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Guards tighten their circle around them. No one speaks. Everyone's eyes are on me and suddenly I feel an undeniable strength surge through me. Visions of Edward hanging, beat and bloody in my mind. I look into James' eyes. _He did that. _

"You had one of mine. I have one of yours," Azar laughs. James cuts his eyes to him and back at me. "It's only fair, Maricón. Y que?"

"How?" James asks me. I shake my head. His his teeth grind, he's shaking. "I'm going to kill Paul."

"By all means. Do me the favor," I chuckle once. I look at Jelena and back at him. "How about we just..." I shrug sarcastically, "Forget this night ever happened and go back home. Yeah?"

He doesn't speak.

"I really don't feel like killing you tonight. I assure you, though, you're on my list. What you did to Edward. To me," I aim at Jelena, "You too." Her eyes darken. Her nose lifts, looking down at me. "I'm just not...feeling it tonight. So, why don't you step out and go home?"

Still, no one moves. Azar laughs giddily from his seat. He buries his loud guffaw into Vanessa's hair. She's not enjoying this now. Her eyes wide with every push of the barrel to her neck, digging. "Holy fuck. So hot. That's my girl right there. You see that?" He whispers in her ear loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Tell Aro I'll be a while. It's just tonight. Girl's night off, you know?" I tilt my head giving him my best smile. James is fuming. But doesn't move.

_BANG. _One shot. By his head. It shatters a liquor bottle at the bar. A couple of shards of glass slices his cheek. He flinches to the side. He wipes his face and looks at the blood in his hand. His death glare finds mine again.

"Leave," I spit. He moves. And I move too. One step for another. Jelena moves behind him, but with a smirk on her face. Vanessa falls in front of me as Azar pushes her off him. She scrambles to her feet.

"You heard her," he taunts. He strides to my side and curls an arm around my waist.

And they do. James gives me one last look as guards escort him. And my stomach churns of what will come. He'll tell Aro. He'll tell everyone. I watch as guards drag the lifeless Rick out of the room.

I sag against Azar when the doors shut. I'm panting and I didn't notice. I bring my Ivory filled hand to my forehead and I can't help a whimper as I close my eyes.

"You did amazing, Mi Bella," Azar holds me tight and I'm grateful or I'll fall. _He'll tell Aro. He'll tell everyone. _

"Shit. _Shit..." _this is bad. I look up at him. "They will kill you. They will take everything from you and kill you."

"No," he smirks, shaking his head, "I have sufficient ways. It's why they keep coming," he pauses, "That, what you just did, will build respect. _That..._is what you need to do to survive, Bella. You are you're own fucking master. They don't own you. Do you hear me?"

And he's right. I nod and he's so right because if I do this I need to find my strength. My voice. I need to become as thick skinned as Edward was. I need to make him proud.

I straighten. I look at my hands, the Ivory. I disarm it and push it behind my belt again. "Get me a car," I tell him. "I need to go home."

Azar smiles.

—•–•—•

I find my door open when I slowly step out of the top floor penthouse. Quiet. Eerily quiet. The elevator doors shut behind me and there is no other sound but my breathing.

No guards. No Paul. The open doorway is dark. I take a step. And another. _Nothing._

My heart is pounding and I hear it in my ears. The swoosh and thump filling the vein in my neck. I take another step a few feet from the door.

I gasp.

I clench my fists and try not to flinch or step back..._or run._

The moon shines through the floor to ceiling windows at the far end of the living room, setting a shadow over Aro. He's sitting. My plush chair with the tall back was pulled from it's corner to sit facing the open doorway. His legs are crossed, his elbow leaning on a plush arm. Smoke billows above his head. His arm moves and a shadow of a cigar sits between his fingers. His cuff link gleams in the moonlight. I can't see his face. Darkness envelops him but for the shadows across the white carpeted floors.

This is it.

I muster all the strength in my veins and take a steady step, even though I feel my bones will shatter. I'm under the threshold and look up into his ice blue eyes. They look ghostly, terrifying against the dark shadows.

I move through the threshold. Slowly. He doesn't move. I take a step slightly to my left, facing my room and almost graze his knee he's so close. Only his piercing eyes follow my every move. _Nothing. _

He takes another swig. A red ring glows from the ashy tip. He stares as smoke rises. His lips part slowly. I think he'll speak but smoke seeps through his full lips, up his nose. He inhales it right back, hauntingly. Still, he sits comfortably without an utter of a word.

I huff. I look away. I'm sick of this. Of him. He's like a monster in my closet but he's in full view in front of my doorway. I won't let him scare me.

"I'm free. You can't take that away from me," but my voice quakes. I hate me. He doesn't respond and I grow red. Anger.

I move by him to leave. To head to my room because _fuck him..._ And I tell him. I say it. Outloud._ "Fuck you_," I seethe, turning away.

I scream.

He grasps my wrist and twists it wrong. It burns. My head falls back with the searing pain. My knees give as he pulls again. Hard. I fall on his lap. I'm jostled like a rag doll. My purse falls with everything in it. I blink and only see his face contorted in a deranged snarl. He turns me over him. I'm laying over his thighs on my stomach. He pins my wrists in his large hand against my back.

I yelp.

I writhe and kick as his palm comes down on the back of my thighs and bottom. Over and over again. He doesn't stop. He spanks and spanks so hard I can't hold back my screams. I gasp a staggered breath when I can't scream anymore. Tears blur my eyes. They drip to the white carpet below. He spanks me like chastising a child.

I cry through gritted teeth. And he won't stop.

I begin to pull. Fury grips my chest as I growl and fight him. I manage to straddle his leg and around his calf. He stops. Ache and heat everywhere. I don't have time to breathe when he pulls me to sit on his lap again. It stings. My wrists still bound.

"I'd like that, sweetheart. I'd really like to..._fuck you,_" he hisses against my cheek. I'm panting. His expensive cologne wafting through my nose and lungs. His arms are curled around me roughly. I can't move.

I growl when I feel him let go of my chin. The red tip of the cigar is hovered above my face. I whimper.

"But you're like a petulant child who continues to defy me. Do you know how frustrating it is, hm?" his warm breath on my neck, "I want you to remember this night, darling, because it will be your last _girl's night off_. Do you understand?"

_Oh God... _I watch the cigar get closer and I struggle but he has me held too tightly. He pins my hands between the arm chair and his thigh behind me. He grabs my hair and pulls. My neck exposed.

"Aagh!" I scream. He digs the cigar behind my ear. It burns for a split second before he pulls it away. Instant relief when his head dips and licks a trails there. He pulls away and digs the tip again. This time is burns more. But he pulls away when I scream. I feel his tongue again. He moans. He lingers. His lips pop off with the suction and plants a chaste kiss.

"There, that'll make sure to sting for a while. You won't forget." He stands. He lifts me in his arms, pinning mine.

"You sick son of a bitch! Let go of me!"

"Time for bed. We have a long afternoon. You'll need your sleep." He barges in my dark room with a kick to the door. He strides to the bed and drops me. I crawl away but he pulls me by a leg. I look at up him through blurry tears, at his menacing eyes. For once, his hair and suit are in disarray. He looks younger and furious.

"Try me," he points, he pins me against the pillows, "Just try me and I'll hurt you until it scars." He stands.

I dig into my jacket pocket as he strides backwards towards the doors. His huffs come out heavily through his nose. He turns and slams the door just in time, before the _cute_ blade sticks to the pane.

And that splintered wood becomes my practice target every night.

—•—•—•

* * *

**Two hot men in one chap. Can't complain _that _much. ;-) Azar's pic is on my twitter if you're curious.  
**

**I'm on 900+ reviews. Can we make it to 1k? Sighh, oh to dream. What do people have to do to get lots of 'em? Sell organs? I wonder. I'd consider it. My boobs are too big, I'd give some of those away if I could. They're annoying and get in the way.**

**I see you adding and I love you for giving me the chance, but don't read through! Please press the yellow button down there...No! not YOUR love button, mine! ;-)**

**Remember: Have faith in me. I PROMISE I won't make the next update too long.**


	25. Chapter 24: Guardian

**A/N: Oh lord. I don't know what else to say. Life is HARD and so is writing. I've been struggling with a mans world job and freelance at home. I made this one extra long for making you wait so long. I see you adding, I want to hear from you. Please, please please review!**

**Beta Smurf B: You're wayyyy awesomer than my new Rocket dog shoes. To Vantastic and Jelena who also made it into this fic. ;-) Love you.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — About to beat a handsy pervy jerk.**

—•—•—•

_**Sound: Garbage - Milk**_

—•—•—•

**Chap 24 - Guardian Angel**

—••—•—• **Eight months later —•—•—••—**

When I was little, I used to daydream about describing my life story to an imaginary interviewer. Of course, they were always fascinated. In my head ran a monologue of everything I've been through, who I knew, the people I loved, what they were like, my favorite foods...even random things like the most agonizing sound in the world.

I've decided now it's most definitely the alarm clock. 6:00am.

I wake up and there is no one. No interviewer. No people I love. No appetite. The only things left are agonizing sounds and a constant monologue in my brain reminding me this is not the life I dreamed.

So I go on and plant my feet on the white carpet. I walk. I move. Because there is nothing else I can do but live it and be and survive and breathe. Routine has found its way into my odd days. Life goes on. Or so I tell myself.

6:05am. I shower. My hair, under the suds of shampoo, has grown longer. Layered. Shiny. My skin exfoliated. Soft. Firm. With the glow of a wealthy fortunate woman with means. At Aro's insistence, of course.

He twisted a lock of my hair once between his fingers and smiled at me. _"First impressions are everything. You'll have them eating off your hands." _

Every week a stylist is sent to my penthouse to fix me up. I've never felt elegant like a lady before. Silks. Robes. Heels and garters to go with dresses and pins in my hair.

Yet my insides are raw. A child sitting in a dark corner holding onto hope for dear life.

That night Aro's wrath surfaced changed everything. I cried the whole night. Not of fear but of anger. Pure fury running through my veins. I stood from that bed and attempted to leave more times than I can count on my hands. Sobs of anger and fierce fingers pulling at my hair as I dropped to my knees, defeated. The balcony doors to my room left open to let nothing but my scream out and the breeze in. I couldn't find a way to run.

He would've found me. The army would've found me. I would've been truly dead this time. There weren't enough bullets in my Gucci purse to kill them all.

The next day, Sue came and picked me up off the floor and fixed me up all over again. Like she always has. No questions asked. She fixed my bath and washed my hair. Not uttering a word about my tear stained cheeks, blotchy eyes or even the red swollen ring on the skin of my neck. She hummed a hymn while she brushed my hair. I cried silently the whole time.

He came to collect me as he promised. No signs of anger in his demeanor. He was calm. Chipper, even. His eyes gleamed just as his onyx ring and cufflinks, like nothing had ever occurred in the early hours of the morning. But I saw it when his knuckles skimmed my cheek to the stinging cigar burn behind my ear—a hint of guilt. Just ask quickly, his ice blue eyes switched, turning cold again. He walked ahead of me towards the door and ushered me out. That was that.

I haven't looked into his eyes since.

This room...this place has become my fortress. My sanctuary. The things aren't mine but I used them as an assassin uses a stolen car, forested woods to camouflage...or a motorcycle. The surroundings provides tools to survive. To accomplish a mission. To get the job done. No regrets or guilt. Kill or be killed.

6:35am. I boot the computer on my way to my night table in my robe. It buzzes alive, crackling with static of warmth and routine. The monitor blinks on. The keyboard beams fluorescent red invitingly.

I reach the night table and grab an Ivory. The new pedestal displays the twins beautifully—functional, even. A sweep of my extended hand and I'm ready to pull the trigger. But for now, I stare at them every night as I fall asleep.

I turn one in my hand and double check. It's loaded. I drop it on the bed and move to the closet of dreams. I haven't repeated an outfit yet. I don't have to. On Monday, a soft ivory colored pant suit, a rose blush blouse underneath—Chloé on the label. Tuesday, a gray dress with sharp squared sleeves to the top of my shoulders, fuchsia lining—Chanel on the label. Wednesday, a leather pencil skirt in emerald green and a blouse—Dolce & Gabbana on those labels. I gave up looking at labels by Thursday.

Today, I pull out a red wrap dress. I keep this color when I'm feeling melancholy. When calm is slipping out and anxiety is slipping in. When I need to hide the anguish from showing. The color of _him. _It makes my heart hurt less slipping it on.

7:03am. I've watched the stylist enough times to know how to handle the damp nest on my head. I blow dry it and pin curls at the ends as I do my make-up. Colors of powders and blushes and glosses. All in black cases with sleek typographic logos. My fingers skim over the line of brushes. I find the one I remember and dab the golds and browns over my lids.

I take my time applying it all—careful to cover the dark circles still showing under my eyes. This is my mask. And I use it everyday. Ruby red on my lips and I'm protected. The bold color of _him. _

I take the pins off my hair and curls collide around my shoulders. My earings next and then the best part. I brush my thumb over the Ivory tusk that was left of _him. _I clipped it around a red leather cord I found around the waist of a dress in the closet. I cut it to size with my cute blade and I tied it on. Just as it should be.

I take a moment and stare at the broken woman in the mirror. She's elegant now. Alive. Breathing. But I know better. The gloom hovers like tattered wings clipped to her spine. They're densely fogged around her tense shoulders. She drowns in a sorrow that pools at her lids and trembles her chin. But then it's gone. She squares her shoulders and walks away.

8:00am. I bring up the browser on the screen and begin working. Emails from partners and corporations with mounds of money trying to get their hands on a stem of the Berry. The permission documents, the paperwork. Even mailed invitations to events asking for my attendance.

I pick up one particular invitation for tonight off the desk, Aro insist. I sigh, reading the elegant gold print on a sheet, tucked in a black envelope. Everyone that is anyone will be there. A dress will be sent and all is set. He'll pick me up at my penthouse tonight.

I've never had to endure so much. I've learned. It seems mundane now. But my heart swells when I see distributions of the medication in hospitals and I'm seeing results. This is what Renee wanted. The streaming online news playing in the background is telling me so.

The Berry is discussed daily. People are informed about hope and an extraordinary breakthrough in medicine. Talks of national involvement and even global investors. The city is happy. The word is spreading world wide.

Aro's greed is expanding just as rapidly.

My manicured nails tap over the red keys and I take a sip of the porcelain teacup brought to my desk as I dressed. The help are practically invisible. It's alien. But I pretend it's room service at a fancy hotel. I savor the moments in these early hours of the morning...because it will be hell later. Aro never makes anything easy for me these days. I never know what to expect.

8:30am. I pull on my trench coat and open the clasp of my purse. The Ivory slips in easily, tucked in beside my wallet. I head for the door.

Paul's greedy eyes wander as I pass by him. I'm still surprised he's alive. I ignore him. The elevator is full of people as I'm ushered to the back. But they aren't civilians or guest of the hotel—they're black coats, guards, _my _guards.I shake my head at the excessiveness.

Since that night, Aro ordered more security to flank my every move. I am imprisoned in my own apartment and watched everywhere I go. Every breath. Every sigh. I'm monitored every second of the day. Not even a flying bullet could reach me behind the walls of tall men in shades.

I sigh...yet again, as I slip into the black, bulletproof SUV. The walk of shame down the lobby is done with. I won't have to endure the feeling until I come back home. Everyone stares. Everyone is aware of the encased woman and her heels clacking on the marble floors. I keep my eyes down until the sun shines on my prickled skin. I breathe a lung full of fresh air and stare at the blue sky that is open and spacious...and free. I close my eyes...

_God, let this be the day I find freedom again. _

—•—–•—•

A room full of gentleman and a woman walks in. They all stand in unison and look my way. My shoulders square and my fists clench around my purse. I take a step further into the conference room. My view is of every suited man standing at both sides of the long mahogany table. Some are associates. Some are new. The morning is looking long. I'm exhausted already.

"Gentlemen," I nod.

But I stiffen instantly.

"You look ravishing this morning," Aro whispers in my ear. His knuckles skim my shoulder to my neck. He takes a step at my side. But his hand stays. It moves to the nape of my neck, gently caressing. "I introduce to you Ms. Marie Phoenix. My close partner and co-owner. She will be leading you through this gather and answering any of your questions." I smile tightly. The insinuation of _close_ _partner _doesn't escape me.

I lift a few fingers. "Please, take your seats," I gesture. My assistant, Lauren, places my leather bound notebook and pen in front of me. Silence of patience as I settle myself. I'll lead, they wait. I like to make them wait to both gain control of the matter and internally gather my thoughts. I suppress lingering anxiety in my limbs with a deep breath.

The firebird logo on the letterhead of an Ivory fiber sheet of paper is black and freshly pressed. The sheet slips over the slick leather notebook when Lauren places it in front of me. And I know. I take the distraction to fill the silence in this large gray room. My signature is always needed for this or that. Daily paperwork. The etch of Aro's signature is already in place to the left. As always, I'm the last. I pick up the pen and move to the right, over the blank line.

_Marie Phoenix. _

I still don't respond when I'm called.

My middle name and my rebirth after death. If I'm still alive. I feel the burning like a firebird still. Much so everyday.

I hand Lauren the sheet and her smile is tight and professional, but of knowing. She's nice and blonde and grounded. I'm more than certain that amusement will spread in snickers at the ridiculousness of a room full of serious stuffed suits. She pretends to belong but doesn't and I love it. It's a relief to relate with another who's normal.

"Thank you, Ms. Mallory." I return the smile.

"Anything else, Ms. Phoenix?" she asks sweetly, "Coffee? Tea? _Stuffed_ pastry?"

I shake my head in dismissal. "That is all, thank you." She leaves much too quickly...probably to laugh.

I look up and all eyes are on me. I begin to speak. An hour of introducing and breaking down the cycle and process of the Berry. It's abilities and effects and future advantages. I'm a different person. I watch every eye following me as I stand and pace. The massive monitor displays DNA and the effects of the Stem. I speak of the wonders it can bring to the board of health and their city hospitals. They listen.

I feel it. My mother's radiance and passion for what this experiment meant to her. My skin prickles as I remember her smile explaining to me in the video I once saw. Suddenly, there is no one in the room but me. It has brightened with the calm and warmth of her voice in my head telling me _this is right. _

"It is simple, really," I conclude, "Life after the promise of death and defeating it. Watching a child with cancer bring color to his eyes, gleaming with hope. Your family, your mothers and daughters, escaping death from a fatality that could be helped. What would you give? Tell me, what is the price you would pay to see that happen?" I breathe. I swell inside when some nod, some grin sadly, eyes far away deep in possibilities.

"What do you say, gentlemen?" I thread my fingers together against my chest. I wait. It sinks into their minds and I know its a done deal. And moments like this is why I wake up in the morning still. I bask in it.

I stand to the side, towards the large windows, and I give them a moment. I look up.

Aro is staring at me. His eyes dark and deep. Pride or..._something _I can't place, radiates. Like he'd move at any moment, devour me at any second. In a single beat of a stuttering heart. The corner of his lip lifts. I can feel him see right through me to the core. A shiver eases through my spine slowly, sending heat through my limbs. I look away.

A man in a pinstripe suit stands suddenly. Everyone looks up. His tie of silk and gray tucked in his breast pocket to match. He slips my hand into his in a matter or a few strides. "Ms. Phoenix..." he pauses to smile softly. I blink. "You have enchanted me," he says and plants a kiss on my skin. His grin spreads from his lips to his gray handsome eyes. "I'll expect a shipment to Seattle as soon as possible. Our most prestigious hospitals will embrace this with open arms."

I nod, straightening my spine, "Thank you."

He glances at Aro and I turn to look. My breath catches at the death in Aro's eyes. They flicker to the hand in mine and slowly travels up to a gray stare through his lashes.

"Aro," he nods, unknowingly. Everyone seems to wait a beat for Aro's response.

I fight my legs from moving, retrieving way, when he finally moves towards us. I flinch. His arm snakes around my waist and pulls. My shoulder pushes into his chest as he regards the man still holding my hand.

"Vince," he suppresses a sneer, "It was great doing business with you." He dismisses him.

Vince lets go and smiles at me one last time. He moves to the door. One by one the others follow, walking up to me to shake my hand, then Aro's. I try to step away from his hold but he pulls again roughly. His fingers splayed around my hip. I fake a smile at the gentleman in dark blue who shakes my hand next. Everyone is oblivious to my silent struggle as I try to push against Aro with my free hand. He just squeezes harder.

"Thank you for coming. We'll keep in touch," I say sweetly at another who takes my hand. At the same time my nails dig into Aro's hand. I pull it away. I give him my back. It only infuriates him more. A growl, as whispered as the gasp that slips through my lips when he presses against my back.

_Not again._

My knees shake and I'm silently praying everyone would just leave so I can run. But I can't move. I feel him. All of him. His solid broad chest against my back. His hip pressed the left of mine. And I have to smile through this.

He's calm. His face blank as he speaks business with a man at his side. My teeth grind when I feel his knuckles skim the back of my thigh. They hastily move up the hem of my dress. I grip his fingers fiercely and snatch them away, pulling my dress back down. His are only free to curl around my front again. I shake another man's hand and he's second to last. I squirm. My breathing is staggered.

I grow pale. I feel the blood drain from my face the moment his fingers inch inside my wrap dress. The draped fabric at my side allows his creeping fingers to move further in. I gasp. I bite my tongue. I taste blood.

Everyone in this room are oblivious to fingers skimming the top of my sex.

The last gentleman in a black suit strides up to us and smiles. He's too close to see what's happening below.

I fight a smile and a steady hand shake. And suddenly, I don't want him to go, to leave me here alone with this insidious man pulling on lining and finding skin.

I hold on to the man's fist a beat too long. He stops, ready to walk away. He looks into my eyes and smiles, politely asking for his hand back. I don't let go. Frozen at the feel of warm fingers tracing my hipbone...and lower. I squeeze the hand in mine.

"Ma'am," he mutters and nods once. "It was...nice meeting you." He blinks and looks at my hand. It's slightly trembling. His brows knit when his eyes flicker back to mine.

"Right," I snatch my hand away, "You too." I watch him turn hesitantly and walk away. The instant the heavy doors close I choke on a gasp. Aro's long finger grazes my slit through lace.

With both of my hands, I pull at his, snatching at his cufflinked sleeve. My fist clenches. I punch his forearm. Nothing. I'm practically on my toes as he fully palms me between my legs. I'm pinned against his back. His hand unmovable and lead. Yet, fingers are gentle with every stroke. His lips at my neck.

"Ms. Phoenix..." he whispers. The warmth of his sigh fans over my shoulder. His free hand roughly moves over my stomach to my breast. The dress wrinkles under his grip.

"I've told you..." I breathlessly hiss. My jaw tight under every word. I snatch the hand away from my chest. "Ah..." I tense. Every stroke slips deeper between lace to bare skin. My toes threaten to slide from under me. I thread my fingers through his. I pull. Barely a nudge.

"Mmm...warm, wet."

"Get your fucking hands off me!"

I yelp. He spins me to his front in a brute hold. "Why?" he rasps, his voice calm. Provocative. His ice eyes searching mine. "We would be perfect."

I slap him. Hard. I pull back and do it again. His arms never let go as I strain to pull away.

"Fucking piece of shit, you're dead!" I dig nails into his face. Rage and red form into growls of mine. "Argh!" He twists my wrists behind me, ceasing any struggle. All I can do is stare from under my lashes, panting.

His nose nuzzles mine gently. He watches me. "A caress for every beat, love for every hate. Fight all you may, you'll give in eventually," he grins.

"Never," I seethe. I look over his shoulder at my purse, undisturbed on the table. _Too far._

He nuzzles my neck when I turn my head. He inhales soundly. "Mmm..." A kiss. I fight him, twisting in his arms. "Just you wait," he whispers. His eyes grow serious. His hold slowly unfolds from around me. But he doesn't let go. His head tilts. He leans into my ear. I flinch.

"Don't dare reach for that gun in your purse...or I'll slice through your assistant's little throat," he murmurs, like a secret at the ear of a lover. My mouth falls open. Oxygen leaves me. He pulls away, his nose skimming my cheek. "I like teasing you, Ms. Phoenix. I can't resist." He kisses my flushed cheek in soft pecks and lingers. "I'm letting go now. Be nice."

I whimper. A sob threatening to escape. I step away, pulling at my disheveled dress.

He shows me his palms in surrender and smiles gently. "Forgive me. Our next meeting awaits. Let's forget this ever happened and go," he gestures towards the doors, "Shall we?"

I grab my purse. Fingers twitching, urging to bust the fucking trigger between his eyes. I storm out.

Lauren stands from her desk at the lobby. Her eyes grow wide at second glance. She steps to my side when I pass her and feel her empathetic gaze before they move to Aro. I feel him standing by the doors, glaring at my retrieving back.

"Lauren," I call sternly. She scurries behind me. I don't want her to be left alone with him.

"Marie?" She closes the doors to my office behind her.

"Just... stay here," I order. I stride to my private bathroom. I shut the door and I let go. Grabbing a small towel nearby, I bite into it and scream. Muffed rage.

This is the first time he has gone this far. The first, a_nd the last._ I will kill him.

For months, his touches have grown bolder. Lingering. Moving lower. Every time I'd squirm away some way or another. I threatened him the moment his grip on my arm squeezed too hard. He always apologized and kept his distance for a while after. But I knew it was only a matter of time.

Until now.

I turn on the sink with trembling hands to wash the anger away, ridding the feel of his skin. My aching palm red, under the trickling stream against the porcelain sink.

I find Lauren's worried eyes. The floor to ceiling windows let in the warmth of the sun and flecks in her eyes.

"A favor?"

"Anything," she mutters from behind me. A picture of Aro's blood coating the crystal paper weight in my hands is clear as its rainbow flecks. The prettiest item on my desk, yet the most effective, I think. "Are you alright?" The hesitant question behind me erases the picture away. I nod. I try to smile for her, but fail. "Him again, wasn't it?" she asks knowingly. I've never said a thing.

"Print out the list of providers from last week and take your time calling them back. Don't leave this room." I walk out without another word from her.

I walk through dark stone halls. My heels click on the shiny floors. People see. Once they look up, they stop. They step aside and nod in acknowledgment looking down. I'm like a plague. It's disconcerting. I'd always been the outsider in a school full of mean kids. This is worse. They do it out of of fear. Not of me, of Nicholi Aro.

I don't need to look behind me. I feel black coats flank my steps. They stand guard at the lobby outside my office. Once I step outside of invisible perimeters, so do they.

Double doors are pulled open for me. I step through and thank them. Instantly, I find Charlie's eyes.

Like liquid magnesium shots and my skin feels it. I look at him but he's a stranger. Not once have I spoken a word to him. He sits at meetings once in a rare occasion. Mostly to be ordered by Aro. I don't know why he lingers still. But I know the pull of relation is faint. Everytime I see him, he feels less mine. And the sadness in his eyes tells me I'm less his. I don't feel the need to ask him if he's ok, or if he's eating, or if his life is just as changed as mine. He just is—a shadow of my past who looks like me.

It terrifies me on days like these, when the pull is strong enough to reach out, to beg him to make the monsters go away like he used to. But he won't. He lead them to me. I have to breathe to suppress the sadness and loneliness. I am an island.

The meeting is underway. I quickly move to my regular seat. This time, I'm glad no one stares—no one except Aro who sits by me. He watches my every move, hands folding over my crossed knees. The distance between our chairs gapes with tension. He doesn't like it. My chair is yanked until he closes the gap. I blink but I don't look at him. He looks away with a heavy huff.

I try to listen to what Dr. Vladimir speaks about. A new experiment to produce a simpler stem of the Berry. A Berry 2.0. if you will. Slower progression and cheaper. But side effects apply. The price of life in a round pill. I already know it's a 'No'. I will not consent in signing my fake name on this. All or nothing is what Renee wanted. I sit back and let the meeting linger to the end. The back of my hazy brain plays with crystal, blood and pain.

Scars. Invading memories of warmth and ink under fingertips of mine once upon a time. I rub them together on my lap, under the table. The feeling gone, but the memory is a prickled sensation. A nanosecond of nostalgia and it's gone. My fear is that even a nanosecond will fade like he has. The day I forget his eyes, lips, face, I don't know what will become of me.

I miss him and my eyes blur the line on my paper.

Movement at my peripheral. My eyes move to the top right of my notebook, over the faint blue lines. His metal pen forms a single script question mark. He circles a few times on the dotted end, finishing the two dimensional question in his mind.

Like he has to ask. Sick man. I almost chuckle at the ludicracy. But my stomach stirs too much.

Aro begins to lean into me. The double doors push open. The walls shake with the loud bang of door handles against stone. Everyone looks up at the man with wide eyes and white hair. His white coat swivels around his thighs as he hurries into the room.

"What is the meaning of this?" Aro shouts. He stands, rattling his chair to the side. The old man scientist I recognize from around the halls stops at the end of the long table. He's mute. Panic in his hands as they gesture with an unspoken confession.

He peeps a sound, a try but fails. He looks at Aro and at me.

"For fucks sake! Speak," Aro growls.

"The Berry," he breathes, "It's failing."

I gape. Everyone turns to look at one another and at Aro. He slowly walks to the front of the room. Silence settles like the madness in his eyes. He stops by Charlie, sitting tensely at his seat. "What do you mean?"

"Sir...I..." he rubs a wrinkled hand across his nape. "The Berry is getting weaker. It's not enough. We tested time and time again. The Berry was created as a twin, not an individual. There is a stem missing. Without an energizing stem it'll...fade. We cannot continue to multiply without a second key," the old man says. His voice quivers.

_A key. _

"What?" Everyone but Charlie turns to look to me. His head is slightly bowed. His eyes wide. His complexion reddens. The vein in his forehead I know so well only appears when he's angry, troubled or perplexed. It plumps. His fist clench under his crisp white sleeves. My stomach drops. Aro follows my gaze. He roars.

Charlie's collar is a rope in Aro's hands. He pulls. Charlie shuffles to his feet. Every suited man in the room stiffen. No one moves.

I wince hearing the thud of Charlie's head hitting the stone wall. His face contorts in pain. "Where is it?" Aro shouts.

"I...I don't know."

"You know, Lieutenant, and you will tell me!"

"I thought it was just Bella's...uh, Marie—Marie's key. I thought it was just my daughter! Aro..." His words are broken with a fist to his lips. Charlie grunts. His white shirt and blue tie are smeared in blood. He spits.

"You're playing games with me! Where the fuck is the key?" Aro yells against his face. His fists dig into his neck.

"Carlisle," he says weakly.

"Speak up!"

"Carlisle! It was him," Charlie heaves, "He must've...made a second key. I didn't know, Aro. I didn't know." Aro lets go and he's screaming. I start in my seat, watching. Aro roars like a rabid beast.

Black coats rush in through double doors already armed. I reach for my purse and unclasp it. My fingers find the ridged tusk. If hell breaks loose, so will I.

A guard takes a step back. Aro charges at him. The black handgun is snatched off his hand. The slender man with dark hair stands helpless and unarmed. We all watch Aro swing it through the air. He aims.

I gasp. The gunshot is loud, ripping through the old man's chest. He chokes and drops to the floor. Men in suits gathered around the table stand and shuffle to the back of the room. I grip the handle tighter, still hidden under the fabric of my purse.

Everyone watches in horror as the old man grows quiet. Aro's hurried strides aim for Charlie this time. Charlie tenses. He shows his palms, panic in his eyes. He cowers against the wall.

"Wait..." he pleads. Aro aims between his eyes.

"Wait? It's all I've done for years to get her," he points my way. "Futile. A waste! I will not wait!"

"Please. I'll find him. Just...please..."

"Oh, you will, Lieutenant, or I'll have your brain scattered over your wife's grave if it's not in my hands."

A pang through my chest at his threat. Charlie's eyes darken, but he never moves a limb.

"GET OUT!" Aro shouts, the gun is aimless. Everyone moves. Charlie is gone. Guards move through the doors behind him. A couple drag the motionless old man out of the room. I'm left alone again with this demonized man.

Aro leans onto the long table, the gun still in his fist. He's breathing so hard, I pull the purse to my lap, fearing he'll pounce. Silence is a giant.

I contemplate how surreal this moment is. If Carlisle has anything to do with this, I know...I just know the key will never be found. This was his intent. A plan 'B' in case the Berry falls into the wrong hands. It has. He was right. It's so like him to do something like this. Maybe Renee knew, maybe she didn't. Charlie looked genuinely lost.

Part of my heart gloats, the other fears the worst. The mystery. The secrets. This can all be over, just like that. _God, please, let it be. _

I bink up at Aro in shambles—never have I felt this alive in so long.

I stand. He doesn't move. I take a step and then another. My heart pounds in my chest. I just want to run out. I reach his side and my strides quicken. Not fast enough. His hand reaches out and wraps around my wrist. I stop. He doesn't utter a word.

I look into his unfocused eyes, fury. But not like mine. Ivory is whispering to end it all, now. But I want to see turmoil. The death of power and dollar bills slipping his grasp, where it will all lead to his end. I want to see him lose his mind.

"Behold, the man who had it all," I say to him. He blinks. His nostrils flare when I taunt him out of his reverie. I snatch my hand away. "Don't ever speak of my mother again."

I walk out—not lingering long enough to see his shambles crack into shards of glass.

—•—••–•

A crackling tone through the phone. My insides desperate. _Hurry. _The tone is a ring of hope in my ear. A click. A breath against the sound of nothing on the other end. He waits.

"Tonight," I whisper. I take a breath. Wanting to say everything. My nails dig into my palm. _Not yet. Wait. _"Not alone," is all I can say.

"Your wish, my command, Ms. Phoenix."

Crackling ends the call.

—•—•–•

You look ravishing, darling." I stare at Sue. Her smile turns to a frown, "What did I say?"

I shake my head and look into the full length mirror. "Nothing. Just...anything but that." She shrugs.

"Ok, then. You look alright." I push a chuckle through my nose. I don't know what I'd do without her. "Turn around. Have to pin this," she orders pressing pins between her lips. The vine diamond studded brooch hangs from the shoulder. She pulls on the satin strap.

Fucking Aro. He had to go this far. Beyond what a cocktail dress should be. This is an Oscar night, red carpet dress. Never in a million years would I have thought I'd slip into one of these. Not every girl would want a pretty dress with all the fixings. The hair. The diamond, dangling earrings. But some...well, some would kill for this. I hate feeling the thrill of it. The dress is unbelievable.

The penthouse door rang two hours ago. Sue rushed to open it and a cart with the dress, the coat, the purse, and shoes rolled in. He didn't give me options. Just this. A Valentino gown in black. A slit far up my thigh to see my bits with a wrong swish of my hips. Sue swears it doesn't. The flared skirt is puffed with layers and subtle feathers under a long train.

"You could hide a tank under there," Sue teases. I grumble. The twin Ivories is more like it. But I won't tell her. Not until she leaves and the stylist too.

The feminine man moves around me. He adds shadow on one lid, then the other. It's not like I don't have enough on. Blush next. He puffs my hair in giant waves for the millionth time.

I hold still for the good part. Red is smeared on each lip. "Smile," he says. No red on teeth. He smiles too. "You guys can hide under there instead. I'll need you. How's that?"

"Hunny, I'll crawl in now," Frank sashays away. His fashionably bald head is shaved into designs with stubble. Shiny as his glowing, healthy, mocha skin. He would look better in this dress probably. They laugh. I don't. I really wish I wasn't going alone.

The penthouse door chimes.

Sue packs up and so does Frank. I stand at the vanity in the closet. I wait, feeling flutters in my stomach.

Sue stops in front of me and grabs my shoulders, "Kill 'em tonight." _My intentions exactly. _She kisses her index and touches it to the tip of my nose.

I hear them open the door and let whoever is here to collect me walk in. I take one last look at myself. _Mom, if only you could see me..._ I sigh. If only _he _could see. It's definitely a change to my old gangly, unkept self. No one I care for can see me now.

I stride into my bedroom and straight for the pedestal with the Ivories. Whoever is out there can wait.

I sit as gingerly as I can on the chaise and pull my skirt out of the way. Black velcro and polyester under a fancy black dress. It feels right. I strap a gun to the right of my right thigh and one on the inside. Cute blades next, lining the top, comfortably under the garter belt.

Someone makes a noise outside. My eyes cut to my bedroom door. A shadow is coming closer. I cover myself with the dress. I stand.

"Good evening, Aro. So nice of you to barge in." I run my hands down the folds of my dress, smoothing any possible wrinkles. My fingertips secures my left diamond earring where it dangles. I flick a lock of hair over my shoulder. Signs of indifference...I hope. My insides are mush. He watches me from the doors, making me nervous.

His tuxedo is black with satin at the breast and a slit of cream peeks from his pocket. The Onyx cufflinks are as dark as his bowtie under a sharp jaw. He's angry and handsome as ever. The rage in his eyes still shows from this morning.

His gaze runs lower and then higher up my frame. I can't take it. The silence is too much. I look away.

I walk across the room and he hasn't uttered a word. "It's getting late. We should go," I try to keep my voice steady, grabbing my purse from the marble table with the gold mirror. I dab a finger at a tear duct, checking my reflection one last time. His ice blue stare reflects back at me. I turn towards the doors.

I'm close, enough to inhale his cologne. One step by him and I'm in the livingroom. I'm at the brink of panting, but he isn't moving.

"Excuse me," I square my shoulders. To my relief he moves, slowly, enough to let me by a tight gap between his chest and the door. I walk through.

Naive of me to think it would be this easy. I walk right into his arms.

"Late? For what?" he murmurs. His words vibrate through my spine. I quiver.

I quickly step away but I'm dragged against him. His arms trap me. I gasp. His teeth bite down on my ear. "The bed is just a few strides back, Ms. Phoenix. We can be as late as we'd like."

"Stop it." I struggle against him.

"Just give me a sigh,a nod, a kiss, a _yes_. I'll take it. You're good enough to eat." His tongue runs up my jaw followed by kisses. I don't respond. I don't even move as he bites. The silence pulls his lips away. He looks down at me. He sighs. A ghosted smirk over his lips. He traces mine. "What I wouldnt give..." I pull away from his trailing finger. His eyes moving over my face longingly. He nods. "You were in love."

I meet his gaze. He watches my reaction for a long moment. Searching. Finding the honesty in my narrowing eyes. "Were?" I humor him.

"Still?" he grins, cocking his head, "That's...sad." My heart pounds and I'm certain he feels it vibrating against his chest. The sting of words pierces right through. I swear I feel fire in me like burning coal.

I push him hard. He staggers back. "Fuck you."

"Not nearly enough time, darling. We're late," he calls from behind me. I hear him snap his jacket straight and the undeniable laughter under his breath.

I walk through the living room and pull the door open, leaving him behind. Black coats straighten quickly, not expecting the sudden exit. They stop and stare, following my trailing dress behind me. I step into the empty elevator, pushing the button as the doors begin to close.

"Move!" Aro shouts. Their wandering eyes snap back into focus. Paul catches the doors in time. They scramble in and around me. Aro steps in through the gap in the center. He stops in front me and doesn't turn around like everyone would in an elevator. He towers over me.

Silence is thick with tension as we descend. I look to the floor, watching his fist clench and release at his sides. _Bastard._ Never has he spoken of the killer I fell for so long ago. Never has he asked me questions or even referred to his existence. _Or how Aro gave the order to kill him._

My heart sinks at the stab. He's right. After all this time, still. It is sad. Needles prick behind my eyelids. I can't even think his name.

Aro doesn't say a word to me in the confined space. But I know he wants to. He's growing restless at my silence like he always has_._

We file out of the elevator after it dings. And again, people stare. The entourage in black and a lady with tear filled eyes. What a sight it must be.

We slip into the awaiting limo. It's dark out with blue midnight clouds and sparkling stars. I don't say a word as he looks at me. He presses a button for the _par_t_ition t_o rise behind him. We're alone again.

"Forgive me," he says. Dry but uttered, no less. "You must." I will do no such thing. Never.

I don't say a _word _though I'd like to rip his throat out.

The limo glides closer to the old building glowing from afar. The event. Chandeliers from the large windows of the opera house reflect on the rain slick streets. Bodies in gowns and black suits trickle in from limos to mingle and drink. The Feathers in my dress flutter, like butterflies in my stomach. I look around as discreetly as I can manage, searching, but nothing. Aro's palm finds the small of my back.

We're fashionably late when people turn to look our way. We are the guest of honor. An honor granted by a committee that doesn't exist. Everyone believes this is a charity event, sponsorship for hospitals around the nation. But what it is, is a playing field. Awareness. Word of mouth and a bit of hype can get the Berry overseas and beyond, to all corners of the world. They'll give money tonight and learn about the Berry.

The black army is growing. They plan and move. They make anything possible. Even lure the richest people in the world to dress in couture and diamonds to walk through these doors.

And I'm the first lady of this whirl of chaos.

Aro grips my hip as affirmation, pulling me closer to his side. His chest seems to expand. His broad shoulders seem to sharpen along with his jaw. He's not aware I am not his plus one tonight. He's not aware I'm leaving tonight.

I square my shoulders and walk, like it's my last time.

I try not marvel at the breathtaking interior. The trimmings of gold and stone and rich crimson curtains under arches. I've never been here. I see the theater is in another wing. The crowd mingles in the great expanse room before they're invited to watch the show and listen to a symphony play. For now, this is the hour Aro looks forward to. The opportune moment to talk business and sell his brand like his soul. Money stands tall in black bowties, cigars and scotch in uncalloused hands. He's a child in a candy store.

His hawk eyes skim the crowd for the rich Russian in attendance tonight. A very special night indeed. And I can't fuck up, he said to me.

Black coats march in groups, behind and infront of us. They get to work as they know what to do. Every corner is guarded and watched. We're lead up the red carpeted stairs, onto the top balcony. The crowd parts to create a path. Some nod at Aro. Some stare at me. Most women sneer, maintaining as much propriety they can muster, while men linger with greedy eyes. I exhale when we reach the top. Windows with ivory panes decorate the surrounding balcony, to the ceilings. A table is set looking over the dancing crowd on a shiny floor. A fifteen piece band plays.

Aro sits at his place like a throne. He makes sure I'm sitting close to him. The argument forgotten, our gazes wander at the distracting surroundings, but mine focused on corners, doors and windows.

_Soon._

We have our four course meal. Other tables are served across the bottom floor. People dance, most eat. The bar is full of laughing faces. A microphone stand is set up by the band on a podium with a phoenix logo displayed in the back in gold. The crowd grows quiet as an announcer begins to speak. Forty five minutes of introducing organizations present tonight and cacophony of applause echos in the large room when donors are commemorated.

I'm distracted. Tense. I take a deep breath once in a while when I forget to breathe. Aro looks down at me. I take a bite of a crumbling filet and look away. His hand finds my bare knee. I slap it away and take a drink of wine. I see his jaw flex from the corner of my eye.

_No sign. Shit. _

The music begins to play and chatter roars again. The hour for mingling and business propositions has come. I stand to find the powder room.

"Where do you think you're going?" he hisses by my ear. The patrons at our table look up to see his hand gripping my arm. I smile at their curious faces—the mayor of the town, his wife, a senator and his colleague.

"Ladies room, excuse me." I step away from my chair but he doesn't let go. I snatch my arm away. He's angry. He snaps his fingers once and black coats follow me out the massive double doors just behind our table.

The hallways is narrow with old paintings and crown molding. A door to the right, a door to the left. I walk towards the doors before me but stop. "Outside, please." The men behind me stop and I feel the tension of their indecision. I don't turn, waiting. "Stay," I order firmly. I take a step and they don't follow.

Two women in gowns trail through the powder room's doors. I side step around them and enter, avoiding their stares. I breathe a sigh of relief. Alone, at last. I kneel close to the marble floor and look. No one is in the stalls. I'm alone. I look around and the windows are high. I need to get to them. I lock the door and slip off my shoes. The gold metal trash barrel is tall enough. I estimate and it'll do. I climb the porcelain sink and shuffle onto the large rim of the barrel.

The night is foggy with thick midnight blue clouds after the rain. It's all I see. Cars travel by and the street is desolate.

_Fuck. _Nowhere to be seen. Anger flares in my veins, driving through my hammering heart.

I hear the clicking of heels far away. Coming closer. I jump off. If a black coat sees the door is locked they'll move in. I run. The lock rattles in my hand and I can't get it to turn. Footfalls get closer. I grunt. I turn my wrist and... _click. _A woman in a sapphire gown strides through. She doesn't notice as I apply gloss to my lips. My toes pull on my discarded heels, unseen under my dress. She goes into a stall.

My shoulders sink. I dump the tube of gloss in my purse and pull out Lauren's smartphone. I have to make sure to give her an extra bonus this christmas. If Aro knew I had this, he'd kill me...or her.

My fingers shake, sliding the lock open to find the flat numbers on the screen. My thumb hovers over the send button. _Shoud I? _I'm torn. Paranoia is teeth gnawing at my lip. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. _Fear cramps my bones. My escape is beyond fashionably late.

I start. The lock to the stall silences the war in my head. She walks out and washes her hands. I pull my heels back on under my dress.

She makes a sound. A chuckled hum, a sneer, I'm not sure. I try to ignore her, busying myself with the inside of my purse. The phone lies hidden in an inside pocket. _That settles that. _She turns wiping the droplets off her delicate hands ona towel.

Before she even utters a sarcastic word, I march out. No one in this place has anything nice to say. I don't have the time to fake pleasantries.

The black coats glance my way and follow me back to the table. All the while i'm digging my nails in my palm. Desperation has never felt this raw. I look around me, finding.

Nothing...yet again. _I will beat him to a pulp when I see his face._

"Darling," Aro calls, he extends a hand. "I've missed you." I refrain from rolling my eyes. The mingling has moved to the far side of the room by an open terrace off the balcony. He holds my waist close. I smile at our guest. "Alistair, I'd like you to meet my lady. The beautiful Ms. Phoenix." I stare up at Aro. He looks at me with a gleam on his lips and light eyes. I can't help a smirk of my own. _If he knew..._

I look up at the handsome Russian in blond. His ring is diamond and larger than Aro's. His tux sharp and expensive. He's frozen, almost, as he stares. His drink is thrusted at a passing waiter without breaking our gaze. He takes a step. I look down at my hand in his when he suddenly pulls it to his lips. I sigh. _Christ. _I want this ridiculousness to be over. I nod at him politely, taking my hand back. But he doesn't let go.

"I've been anxiously waiting to meet you. Finally," he drawls in a thick accent. I nod again.

"Likewise. Aro has said so much..." of nothing. I don't know him. It's the polite thing to say I guess. Words are lacking.

I peek over his shoulder, the windows, the floors below. _Nothing._ His lip curls when I look at him. Aro clears his throat. Alistair looks at him. His smile grows, like he knows a secret. Aro pulls me closer to his side and stares at our hands. He finally lets my hand free. I wiggle my fingers at my side. He squeezed too hard.

They converse further. Aro is loud and animated. No one knows him well enough to see the anxious twitching of his fingers over the glass of his drink. Or the slight bounce of his heels as he speaks business. He glances my way and gives me his back, effectively blocking me from a whispered conversation. But more so, blocking me from Alistair's gazes. He speaks to Aro but watches me. I don't like it. My skin crawls and his smile is vicious and mysterious. It's clear between the two, I'm safer at Aro's side. I look away.

I hear Carlisle's name. My attention spikes. I step into their circle again, trying to listen.

Aro turns to me suddenly, "Darling, why don't you find the associates we need to speak to tonight." Alistair smiles beside him. I watch him brings his fingers to his chin and licks his teeth. "Now," Aro hisses by my ear. I stumble away when he pushes me slightly. Aro turns back to his guest and I'm forgotten.

_Why would he talk to this man about Carlisle?_ My stomach churns with the million possibilities. _Did he tell him about the second key? Is he contracting him to find Carlisle?_ I wouldn't be surprised. His secrets and games anger me. I can't keep up with his lies.

I look around me and suddenly my escape is an urgency. I have to leave _now_. I need to find Carlisle.

I descend the steps from the Balcony to the ground floor. No one is looking my way. Black coats pace to different corners watching over Aro and his guest. Adrenaline rushes through my limbs. For the first time in nearly a year I am not being watched. I turn. The staircase has shadows under it, a dark corner is vacant. I hide. I watch the exit full of people coming in and out. Men keep guard at the doors. But I can't. I have to find another way.

I freeze. My spine goes as rigid as the cold metal against my neck. I wince. I stagger back against a hard chest. I'm pulled roughly.

"You're late," I whisper a snarl. "I can't believe you took this long." He doesn't respond behind me. The blade in his hand digs into my skin. I gasp. My brows knit and he isn't letting go. "Azar, stop fucking around. We have to go."

"I'm a Corporal. Not an Azar." The breath trickling pass my neck turns to a shiver down my spine. A pang of fear.

"Who..." I try to speak. I turn my head but his hold is too strong. He moves the blade further across my neck, up my jaw.

"You came with Nicholi Aro." He speaks. A statement, not a question. My teeth grind with anger. _Fuck. _Just my luck. _Why this? Why now? _

"What do you want?" I manage.

"Him."

I blink. Someone is here tonight to kill Aro. My heart pounds. This can't be right. This moment couldn't have be more perfect if I had planned it myself. I want to see his face. My curiosity eats at my tense muscles wanting to turn. Who is this man who wants what I do?

"Well it seems you're wasting your time with me. He's just up these steps. What's stopping you?" I hold my breath. He doesn't respond.

He let's go. I reach inside my dress with a flick of my wrist. I turn. He flinches back, not expecting the blade in my palm pointing at his throat. I stop.

My eyes grow wide searching his gray pair. "Corporal...Corporal Whitlock?" The blood in my neck drains. _No. He's a ghost. _

The burning man on an metal bed I once saw in a lab is standing in front of me. Flashes of those days by Alice's side filter through my mind. Her gentle hands on the scars, his skin. Her swiveling white coat billowing behind her as she ran to his side. She kept him alive. I remember him on the surveillance tapes in Aro's office that day. His agonized face, tortured, as he tried to escape.

"It's you." I drop my hand and stare at him. His shaved blond hair is tight to his scalp. He wears a black coat like the rest of them. I want to ask him everything. My mouth gapes and closes and nothing comes out. I'm staring at my past and I can't utter a word.

I take a step towards him. He steps back into the dark. His eyes are alert. Blank of recognition. He looks at my face and he doesn't know who I am. _Of course. _He was never awake when I was there.

"Where's Alice?" I ask. A murmured whisper that makes his eyes blink. They soften. "Where is she?" I plead. He pales. His lips part and he doesn't respond, but for his brows turning angry. His stare grows dark and murderous.

His eyes cut behind me. I follow.

"Ms. Phoenix." Alistair. He's standing just by the steps. I look back at Whitlock but he's gone.

_Shit._

"You must have this dance with me," he says. I almost growl. I hide the cute blade behind me and walk towards his extended hand. This has all turned from shit to fucked, in seconds. I'm barely breathing right when he pulls me into his arms. I hide the blade against his back, tucked in my palm. I look around. The Corporal is nowhere to be found.

He's here. It's so surreal. For vengeance. I know it. He's out to find Aro now. I almost lose my footing with the anxiety and adrenaline flowing through my body.

_This is it. This can end tonight. _

If he's here, so is Alice. So is Emmett and Rosalie. I swallow heavily, wondering if they've seen me yet. If we're all under the same roof. If they know I'm alive. To the world I am dead as Bella Swan, but they'll see me. I can hardly breathe as Alistair twirls me to the middle of the dance floor. I slip the blade back in its place when we dip. I extend my neck and I look up from my pose. I spot Aro.

He's watching me from the balcony. I straighten in Alistair's arms. Aro's jaw is sharp to cut. He doesn't have the slightest clue what's coming to him. Despite my hammering heart, I can't help but grin his way. He's practically heaving with rage.

I flinch. Alistair's lips graze my neck where the Corporal's blade touched just minutes ago. My head is swimming.

_And where the fuck is Azar? _I'm going to castrate him when I see him. This wasn't the plan. He was suppose to be here long ago. I was supposed to be gone by now. But everything has shifted in seconds. I feel an invasion will break in at any moment.

The song ends and a crowd applaud. I look behind me and we have an audience. A small gathering of people formed a circle between the dancing couples and the band to watch us move.

I barely have time to flush a crimson red when I'm pulled. I'm in Aro's arms and looking up into his malicious face. He's staring back at Alistair. His fingers dig into my ribs. His free hand travels up my spine. I feel his ring cool against my nape. A song begins to play and he moves, swaying us side to side. I'm pinned against his chest as he pulls me to my toes. I gasp. He kisses me.

His lips hard and full against mine..._and what the fuck? _I sample his taste of scotch and need. He pulls on my lip and I pull away. A hitched breath against his mouth. But his hand is lead and insistent. His chest fills with the breath I exhale. He tilts my head. His tongue is greed, like a venomous snake, slipping through my lips. I'm digging nails in his neck. My forearms push at his chest. He doesn't let go and licks my bottom lip.

He has never stolen a kiss. It's symbolic, really. The last kiss before his death.

"You think I don't see. I know what you're doing," he whispers against me. His fingers dig into my neck so harshly. He spins us around in a circle as the music pulses.

_He knows. _My plan. My escape. _How? Oh God... _I'm frozen staring up at his narrowed eyes. He will kill lauren. She'll die because of me. My heart stutters in my chest. I push him away and take a step back. I turn and people dancing close are watching. I look around frantically. _God help me... _

The crowd parts. I feel his eyes before I see him. Azar is staring straight at me from the shadows. His nostrils large with anger. I gasp. My hand reflexively reaches out to him. I'm pulled by my arm.

Aro cups my chin roughly and kisses me again.

"You are mine," he snarls. "_Mine._ You will never have another but me." I blink.

_Jealousy. _He doesn't know. He doesn't know anything that surrounds us. I shudder a sigh. His lips find my neck..._and he doesn't know. _I look over his shoulder as he bites.

In his dark suit and bowtie undone, I watch Azar moving. His gaze lifts to the balcony. Men in black coats look his way and nod. They've been here all this time. They camouflaged with the black clothe men.

I want to run to him.

Aro nudges my chin with his mouth. And I want to laugh. He tries to kiss me around my forming grin. "Kiss me, dammit. Open your mouth," he growls. His brows knit in desperation, like his fingers around my back. He moves his hips against me. Hard.

So I do. I humor him. For just a beat of my pounding heart, my lips curl around his. I kiss him. My eyes flutter. He groans. His thumb caress my cheekbone when he finds my tongue.

Blood. I taste it. Silk crimson.

I don't let go even as he cries out. He yanks my teeth away from his lip. His hand stains with blood when he finds it. "You don't know a thing," I breathe. I wipe a drop of his copper salt off the corner of my lip.

He screams. But no one hears. Women scream. People drop to the floor. Shattered glass falls like rain over the crowd. I look up. Ropes and guns in hands of black armored men dropping down through the intricate molded sunroof.

I crouch. _Move. Run. _I do. I leave Aro's maddening growl with my shoes behind me.

I reach the balcony steps in a matter of seconds. Azar is there at the top reaching for my hand. "Where the FUCK were you?" I yell at him.

He ignores me looking around. He pulls a gun out from inside his coat. He pushes me behind him. "Bella, what the fuck is this?" he shouts, exasperated over the cacophony of gunshots. The Army is aiming and shooting. The armed men are aiming back. The crowd disperses like ants. The exit is crammed with bodies falling over one another. Women are stepped over by men in disheveled suits. There's nowhere to go.

"Our unplanned saviours. Forget it. We have to find Carlisle." I tug on his coat. He pulls me as we run towards double doors, open to a terrace. It's empty.

"Stop her!"

I start. We look behind us and Aro is pointing our way. The white of his tux is red with streaks. Aro spit outs blood and runs.

Black coats run for us from both directions. "Hurry!" I pull Azar and he shoots inside the building. I gasp. I pull out an Ivory from inside my dress.

A black roped ladder waits for us against the stone wall. He pulls on it and holds me by the waist. I climb.

"Fuck," he mutters. He shoots. A man far away grunts. I climb higher. My heart pounding. I hear a crackling behind me and he shouts an order, "Now!"

A bird in black and yellow propellers forming a blurred circle in the sky lifts off the roof. I can't breathe. I hold on. The rope moves, pulling me off the wall. I look down and Azar is firing round after round. He's hasn't climbed on. I call to him.

He looks up at the bird. "Get on!" I scream. He grunts and he's on. He tugs his suit jacket off. My hair is over my face, billowing, but I see him—a black coat reaches the doors and he's aiming a glock at Azar.

The Ivory is heavy, still in my hand. I aim. I pull on the metal trigger without a thought. It comes to life and I haven't felt it like this in nearly a year. I pull again. I blink. The man goes down. I stare at his lifeless form as I go higher. My gaping mouth in fear and numb and awe. _Oh God... I killed a man. _

"Good girl," Azar praises. I exhale a shaky breath. His words sting and soothes all at once. I look down to make sure...to see with my own eyes if it isn't _him. _But it isn't. _He's _not here. I would be safe somewhere, protected. Not going through shit and hell.

The helicopter pulls us away and we're airborne. I focus on the adrenaline and not looking down. It's loud. Black coats trickle out of the doors and look up. I see beyond the windows, the chaos inside. I don't see the Corporal, but men running. Fire rips through a once romantic interior. But the bird isn't lifting fast enough.

I see Aro running up the steps inside. Men surround him. They cover him from every stray bullet. Some fall to their death. He runs for the doors we left from.

"Azar!" Panic. He shouts orders through his handheld receiver. The helicopter jolts. It tips. I scream.

"Fuck!" Azar climbs higher. "Hold on, I'm going up!" he shouts. I just nod. I don't know what he means. I just do what he says. But then he's climbing the ladder on the other side of me.

"Shit!"

"Just hold on!" he yells. I look down and my stomach drops. Aro reaches the terrace and he's looking up. He's yelling at all the black coats standing and watching and doing nothing. I can't hear what he says but I see him pull on one of their guns. I gasp.

He shoots. I duck. "Azar!"

"Bella!" I look up and he's looking down at me from the ledge of the roof. Something is wrong with the bird. And Aro is still shooting. I try to aim but the bird jolts again, almost throwing Azar off. I snatch my hand back to hold on.

"Ah!" I drop a foot. The rope gives with a stray bullet. Aro aimed for the strings to break.

I flail to get my balance, fight from dropping the twin, jostling in my fingers. I'm hanging off a single rope. I look up and scream for Azar. But he's shooting over the ledge of the roof.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. _We're surrounded. I swing forward and my toes touch a stone ledge. A smaller balcony is dark but secure.

Men below are yelling for Aro to go. To move. They pull on his torso to get him out of the building. The armored men are on the top floors and the black army crossing their path fall like flies. They're getting closer to Aro.

I look and find his ice eyes. Fury and desperation. His chest heaves. His hair and clothes billow with the whiping wind. His teeth show as they grind. But I see his lips move. He utters the word, '_No' _and climbs off the stone railing. He dives. I gasp.

The black coats are fighting to catch a foot or an ankle, but Aro is already climbing another balcony. His arms and back bulges with the effort, a mere struggle and he's standing on a ledge. My eyes grow wide and I know what he's doing. I look up and Azar is almost over the roof. I hear gunshots up top too. The Helicopter tilts again. I drop another foot.

I scream.

The drop is moot to the hands that find me. I look and Aro's inside a balcony below, leaning over the railing. His hands grip my waist. He pulls. I kick and thrash, but he's too strong.

"Bella!" Azar's maddening voice rips through the night. But I can't respond. The dark balcony is now invaded with guards. The doors swing open. Aro pulls and twist my wrist. The Ivory drops.

"Never," he mutters against my nape. His arms surround me and I'm dragged through a dark room. The lower level is quiet but for my screams. "Knock her out," he orders. Black coats lead us to an exit. They barge through the doors and into the night. A black SUV waits for us.

I feel a prick on my neck when he pulls my head back over his shoulder. I kick and flail but nothing. Everything grows heavy and quiet. I just don't realize I've stopped screaming.

—•—•—•

"Shhh, child. Everything's alright." I hear Sue, but I can't open my eyes.

A cool rag is wiped over my eyes. Tears fall and I awake. I open my eyes, blurry, but I see gold and fancy molding. I'm in my room again.

I cry out in agony. "_God..._" I'm here still. I was supposed to be gone. Everything went wrong.

"I've got you. You're alright," Sue coos. But I'm inconsolable. She sits on the bed with me, my head on her lap. She brushes my hair back with fingers and blows cool breath over my damp forehead. "You're alive. You're breathing. All is well."

I shake my head. She doesn't knows it's all over. A waste. _Failure._ And she just rocks me back and forth in her arms. I fit my arms around her back and bury my face in her soft belly. I cry because I can't anymore. This is too much.

Minutes. Hours pass. Like a child in her arms, I'm hiccuping. I exhale a shuddered, exhausted breath. I don't know where Azar is. If he's alive. This is all my fault. For being stupid. For thinking I could be as brave as _him. _A soft sob pulls from my chest. I don't know for how long I cry like this.

The sun that brightened the curtains, forming sharp warm rectangles on the white carpet has shifted, dimmer. Afternoon comes. Still, Sue sits by my side and not a sound. I will not let go of her arms. I just watch my night stand. The pedestals. They're vacant. Not even the twins are with me anymore. Gone. I'm truly alone now.

"Where are they?" barely a whisper.

I hear Sue's neck pop and she shifts. I move off her, enough to let her sit another way. She's stiff, but I can't help but snuggle into her lap again. My nightgown is silk and feels wrong. I long for my torn, worn t-shirt.

"Don't know, sweetheart. I came this morning and you were already in bed, crying your heart out," she murmurs softly. I wince.

"I was already like this?"

"No, baby. I had to pull the gown off and wash your face." I sigh a breath of relief. I shake my head. Tears already falling at the possibility. "Oh child..." Sue rasps, understanding. "The covers were over you, nice and tucked. I don't think he hurt you."

I let out a cry. _Fucking bastard. _I would kill Aro if he touched me.

"I'd be sure to hurt him if he did. Hm," she huffs. I look up at her and I can't help but chuckle at this side of Sue I've never witnessed. She smiles down at me. "Tell me everything."

I shake my head, "I...I don't even know where to start."

"It always helps to start from the beginning." Her soft sincerity makes me want to spill it all.

So I do. But not just about last night. Everything. She pulls on the tray with the tea cup, fruit and yogurt. She coaxes me into eating while we sit against the plush headboard. We talk. Truly talk. Woman to woman, like I've never done before.

I cry when I tell her about the last day I saw Angela and Mike. How I never heard from them again. My friends. How I don't know If they're dead or alive. I haven't had a chance to find them.

I tell her about Renee. The video. Her kindness. Her words of science and the key. How my whole life became a chase after she left.

She gapes. Speechless.

I tell her more, because I can't stop. Not at this point.

I tell her about the unit: Alice, Rosalie, Emmett from the lab who protected me. I understand now the reasons why. I was naive and reckless. I tell her how Carlisle is insane, but the mastermind behind all of this mess. But mostly I hesitate to tell her about _him. _

"Why did he go all his way to find you?" she asks so casually. As if the answer is simple to explain.

I breathe. "Because we were equal. We had loss in our lives just the same. He was hurt like me. He understood me." She nods.

"Was?" My brows pucker instantly at her question. I look at my shaking hands on my lap. I nod once.

"He is no more. Charlie took his life," I whisper. She inhales a hitched breath and covers her lips with her fingers. She knows the story of that part.

"And you love him," she finally says.

I nod. A tear falls. I wipe it away quickly. I laugh suddenly. The sentiment without humor. "He was hard to love at first but...he just needed patience. He was an alien. It was all new to him."

"Well aren't all men the same. Made from the same mold**,** I suppose," she says. We laugh. Silence settles and she seems to want to say more. I wait.

"I'm sure it was hard...I can only imagine how it felt for you to be at his funeral."

I look at her. Her eyes find mine and her words are unclear. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you know. Did you go? Did you get to say good-bye?" she asks confused.

"Oh no, I...never...I woke up here. Aro built this prison for me." Her brows furrow deeper still, in question.

"So, you never saw him...after. His body," she asks hesitantly. I shake my head. She looks away and sits up from her perch. Her hands fold over themselves on her lap as she thinks. My nerves spike, sending a jolt through my spine...and I don't know why. Her silence brings unease to my chest.

"What?" I sit up.

"So..." she tries, her shoulders slump. I wait. "Tell me, Bella, how can you be so sure he's dead?"

I can't speak. The unease turns to a knot twisting in my chest. I can't breathe. I can only manage a shake of my head when I watch her eyes. "No, he's... he is. He's gone."

She nods. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to impose, but..." she swallows thickly, " from all the curveballs your life has thrown at you, child, that one wouldn't be a surprise."

Silence envelops us like a frozen blanket. My skin prickles. My heart speeds in mere seconds. My mind awakes and moves at the speed of light. I grow angry. At her audacity. _How dare she?_ But I look at her. Her gentle face and honest eyes. She doesn't mean it, just curious. But it hurts. I want to tell her to stop. I don't want to hear it.

"What was his name?" she murmurs, breaking the dense air and avalanche thoughts.

My mouth goes dry and I haven't said it outloud in so long. I turn my head to look at her. She smiles. She gives me strength. "Edward...Edward Masen," like I've never stopped saying it. Her smile brightens. _Honest eyes. _My stomach twists.

I shake my head. "Don't. Don't do that. Don't give me hope. Hope died with him." I cry. My chin quivers and she smoothes it with a finger.

"How can you be so sure? Hope has a funny way of making its entrance when you least expect it."

"Stop it." I twist the bedsheets in my balled hands.

She sighs. "No. I won't," she simply says. "Because If I were you, Bella, I'd want proof. To see him with my own eyes. I'd fight with all my being to know if a guardian angel like your Edward truly lived or died."

She stands and its dark out. The sun isn't shining anymore. And I'm angry with her. So angry. I watch as she walks away to the door of my bedroom to leave for the day. She lingers, where her hand is holding the door ajar, and sends my way a kiss with wings from her other palm.

"Sleep," she says. But I'm angry. Too angry to respond when she leaves. Too angry to sleep until the sun comes up to form those sharp warm rectangles on the floor again.

The single question beats through my brain, my heart, over and over and over... _What if she's right?_

—•—•—•

* * *

**A/N: I just woke up from a dream with Rob. HONEST TO GOD. I was begging him to sing 'Broken' at my church LOL. And I hugged and kissed him. And he even said in my ear that he saw me walking around and thought to himself, 'I'd LOVE to be her facebook friend.' **

**Really? That's it? JUST a facebook friend? *shoulders drop* I woke up.**

**So they say if you beg hard enough, people review. Is that true? That's a nice new blue button they made below, huh? I'm almost excited about it as signing in with my google account. Sigh. I swear i'm almost done with this fic and it's not nearly close to 1k lol. What do I have to give? An arm, a leg, first born? Seriously, do people promote a fic somewhere? I don't know where or how. Twilighted? idk. If you have ideas let me know.**

**Thanks sooo much for adding, I see you! and all the 'please update soon' reviews. Love. **


	26. Chapter 25: Ribbon

**A/N Sigh. I don't even...Sigh. 3 months. I KNOW! Please forgive me. I even had surgery. Nose Job. Because I couldn't breathe. And i've been a mess. Yes, that. But at least we're almost done here. Maybe 2-3 more chaps. And once I'm done with my sisters wedding invitations and doing freelance work for a website i'm designing and this and that and... I don't even. Sigh. Yes. I'll try to hurry.**

**Thanks a mill for your reviews! We REACHED 1k! YEY! Ya'll are awesome. And the new adds. Just thanks you thank you. I love you.**

**To Beta B Smurfette, thank you for making me think harder and not half-assing this shit. Ever. I love you. To Van and Jelena for your support. Here we go.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — Hello again. Haven't wore you in a while.**

—•—•—•

_**Sound: Nine inch Nails - Even Deeper**_

—•—•—•

**Chapter 25 - Ribbon**

Chicago News:

"_Officials continue to investigate the inexplicable break-in at the Opera House in downtown Chicago nearly two months ago—where dozens of men and women died. Reporters say a charity event was interrupted by armed men who charged the premises searching for the honorary guest and multi billion dollar entrepreneur, Nicholi Aro. _

_The 80-year old, second largest theater in the U.S. was severely damaged, decorated in corpses still remaining after the most tragic event in the history of Chicago state settled. Most deaths were guards__known to have worked alongside Aro's large group of followers. At the devastating scene, many innocent guests were also severely injured or killed, trampled upon while trying to escape the premises. The guest of honor and the gunmen to blame were not found._

_Since then, officials have contacted and found the entrepreneur alive and well, and he is cooperating with investigation. Lieutenant Charles Swan of Chicago PD has made multiple public appearances to speak on Mr. Aro's behalf, asking for the privacy all the bereaved need in these trying times. _

_Most sources believe this tragic night was an act of protest against a new medical discovery by the Phoenix and Aro Corporation which will impact the lives of this city and around the nation. More details on this story at our eleven o'clock news. Stay tuned."_

I push a few buttons on my keyboard. They illuminate. Gone.I can't hear more bad news about the Berry as a result of the attack. How was anyone supposed to know Carlisle's unit would barge in and take over the show. To make a point. To sabotage the plans of Aro and eliminate him. The news anchor was right. Why else would they have come?

It didn't work. Aro is still alive.

I haven't heard from Azar. I don't know if he got out. If he's still alive. I breathe a sigh of nerves and anxiety hoping he did. _God, I hope he did. _I couldn't take it if he was gone because of me. I couldn't bear it. My hope is that he's hiding. I wish for it so badly.

I sit back in my desk chair trying to take a cleansing breath before I click another link, another article, another story I'm trying to find. I don't know what I'm trying to find, but it tugs at my heart. I need something, finding clues again like I used to. Anything.

All I come across are thieves and car wrecks, political figures trying to change the world but only making it worse, even news on reality show celebrities. Nothing.

The knock at the door is faint but insistent. The daily beck and call. I stand.

Paul is hesitant. His eyes scan me from head to toe. It's weird. I'm not used to this from him. Since that awful night at the opera house he's been acting...nice. Maybe caring. Or worried? I'm not sure. The next night after Sue left me to think, the door knocked, just the same as now. He had a white foam cup with a lid and one of those brown sleeves.

"For me?" I asked. He pushed it towards me, no words. I just stared at him with narrowed, bloodshot eyes he watched too closely. His eyes rolled with annoyance.

"Just...take it," he snapped, walking out. Nevertheless, it was warmth in a cup. I didn't die of poisoning. I don't think I would've mindthat night if I did.

"You alright?"

Paul speaks. I snap back from my thoughts and look up at his parted lips.

"Until you came..." I trail off with a shrug. He sighs, gripping the door jam. "Wheres my coffee?"

"What makes you think I bought you one?"

"Oh...so you don't want to kill me today? That's...generous of you," I say. He shakes his head and his faint smirk turns to a frown.

"Not today. Too busy," he scratches his nose, "Plus, I forgot the body bag at home." He takes a step inside the room, casting a shadow of his long legs from the doorway. He places the foam warmth on a glass table. He looks around, looks at me. "You...um...need anything?"

"Ok...no. Stop. What do you want? You're freaking me out," I snap. I shuffle to the Eames recliner in front of a deep wide fireplace, kindling with orange flames. He watches as I plop down, my sweat pants sag deeper, the neckline droops lower at my shoulder.

"_I'm _freaking you out? You're skin and bones."

"And your face is showing. What's your point?"

"A whole penthouse fully stocked, Bella."

"Yes, well. Cheers to a nauseating life," I murmur, tipping the cup. I take a sip. My chest expands with the warmth trickling down my esophagus. The only thing I've consumed since yesterday's foam gift. His jaw hardens. I ignore him and watch the licking flames for a long awkward moment. "Remember, Paul..." I whisper, sitting back, "Remember when it was simple and our only worry was who got shotgun in our getaway car?" I chuckle humorlessly.

I remember Paul as a kid. A funny, obnoxious tall and lanky boy who followed us around when Jake, friends and I hung out back in Forks, Washington. We all shared soda pops, chips and rotten our teeth with candy as we swung our sandy feet on the hood of an abandoned burnt car at our favorite beach. Our make believe getaway car.

I know Paul like I knew Jake. I teased him and pretty much made his life hell sometimes because it was fun, but I loved him like a brother.

I look up at him now...he's a stranger. He followed Jake's footsteps and ended up here, working for Aro.

He leans a palm against the mantel. His eyes are back at the La Push beach, between the white carpet and the coffee table. Instead of an expected grin, he frowns. He misses it too. "Everything was perfect."

I nod. I finger the lid with a jagged nail.

"And he's gone, thanks to you," he's suddenly harsh. Something snaps. I just nod again, not looking up.

I know what he means. Jake, six feet under by my hand.

"He had it coming. Just like you have yours coming," I finally look up into his deep brown eyes. "Sickening how you've both let yourselves be used. You owe me, so much," I tell him. He can't hold my glare. He knows what he's done. They've both betrayed me. He's become a soldier in Aro's army to make my life impossible, to do what Jake used to do—kill and deceive.

"Nothing," he says, shakes his head. He pulls away towards the door, "I saved your ass. You should thank me."

I scuff, "If you didn't help me, you wouldn't be human. You wouldn't remember who we were to one another. I was sure you changed, Paul. But you saved me. You have a heart." I take a sip and grin. "You still owe me though."

Silence. His nostrils flare. He's holding onto the door knob, ready to slam the door in my face.

"I need you to cover for me. I have places to be. I can't be locked in here forever. I can't," I blink up at him, "I'll go insane, Paul. You don't want to see insane. Do you?"

"Over my dead body."

"Precisely."

"What? You'll kill me with a butter knife? A sofa pillow? Your guns are locked away along with those ridiculous blades," he chuckles knowingly.

_Cute blades, asshole. _I nod.

"You'll tell me where they are. I can shoot you then," I shrug. "Still, you owe me. You'll help me and you won't be able to fight it. I know your secret now. You are incapable of being a complete, heartless bastard."

"I should've let Aro take you away."

I take a mouthful of warmth when the door slams. I swallow with an involuntary hum. "Thanks for the coffee! Not so much foam next time, ok?"

I mean, I genuinely _like _fucking with Paul. He's an easy target. Always has been since we were kids. Especially when he's intimidated, but tries to hide it. Especially that second night he knocked the door and I _did _put a butter knife to his neck. I asked him what the fuck happened after Aro knocked me out with a needle. I needed to know.

He did tell me.

I let go of his collar the moment he said Aro tried to take me far away. Aro was infuriated. He killed a lot of guards because they had failed to anticipate an invasion from black clothed killers. I couldn't speak when Paul said Aro's plans were to take me in a plane and hide me. No one would ever find me in the basement of a run down cathedral in Canada where the army hides.

Who knew I'd owe my life to fuel. There was none in that plane that night. Paul was the one to notice—or sabotage the flight. I'm still not quite sure. I woke up in my room on Sue's lap instead.

I finish the foam warmth and stagger to bed, avoiding mirrors at all cost. I don't care to see the sags and bones. I refuse.

Three A.M. I hope the shadows in my brain will take a break. I'm praying long enough to help me focus on what I have planned for Paul on his next knock—or else.

In my defense, it was a _very _sharp butter knife.

—•—•—•—•

I need a car. My boots hit the pavement and street cars and nightlife drowns the sound. My heart pounds. I wish I could fly but these boots are stuck to the ground. They were made to sweep up dirt, bite on rocks and shredded cigarettes between it's rigged crevices of the sole.

I need a car.

I sigh, but not of fatigue. The anxiety pulls at my lungs, pulling and pulling, until I have to let it out in a relieving breath. I'm trying to find something and I don't know what it is.

My old job of years ago, it seems, tells me its at the street to the right. Straight up the dark alleys where death is likely lying in gutters. My old instincts are present, but not the routine or habit. My old life and occupation is foreign now. Never have I dreamed of being a businesswoman. My heart still beats for journalism. My steps still beat on pavement to find something. Anything.

_What if Sue was right? What if he's still alive? _But how would I find him? I can't go far enough in the short amount of time Paul allows me. I left but I have to be back in a beat of a moment. How do I begin to try and remember, let alone know how to get back to the Lab? Where do I go? How do I start? It's been so long. A year and he's been gone. A year since I've been in my old dusty room in a lab I once knew. A year and i'm still lost, whirling in a storm of Aro.

"What are you doing dressed? What's all this?" Paul asked me thirty minutes ago. He pushed me back into the penthouse when I opened that door.

"What, this old thing?" I waved a hand over my outfit. My boots (the only thing left that's truly mine), fingerless gloves and the leather jacket. I decided the outfit would be my uniform. I would move through the night clothed like this and it would be my cloak of invisibility."Get me my guns," I ordered him.

He laughed in my face of course. It didn't kill to try.

He sneered when I told him how else would I shoot his face. He was hesitant when I waved him into my office anyway. He brought me a new foam cup but he didn't give it to me. I didn't mind. I was on a mission.

I showed him my office. The massive movie screen lit the dark room. It displayed series of numbers on a list. The logo of the state police department and FBI on the top left corner, video surveillance at the bottom right. The list moved as more reports fed in like credits at the end of a movie. The the sounds of crackling police walkie talkies and operators announcing a new crime location to any officer listening in the area bounced through the theater walls. The loud speakers hidden in padded walls and under plush sofas. Paul winced. He looked around, speechless.

I decided before he arrived that this mini-theater, just off the living room in the penthouse, would be my battle station. I never used it or its fully stocked shelves of movies. I carried my laptop in and spent hours trying to hook it up to the screen. Years at the office watching the guys at work hooking up the Xbox or Wii to the conference room payed off. In the prison Aro made for me, I had everything I needed.

How ironic.

Paul was not happy under his gaping expression. I pulled him into a sofa seat and continued to explain what it all meant. Well... not the truth. I told him it's what I used to do before I became Marie Phoenix. Isabella Swan, the journalist. I definitely didn't tell him I would be looking for _him._

"I'll come back," I pleaded against his fist around my collar. I swore to him. If I didn't, I'd lose my only loophole. Aro would kill him and I'd truly be locked in my prison forever. "I just need...a distraction. Paul, I'll go insane in here. It's just a bit of research for...uh...the Berry. I swear." I was desperate. I pleaded for him to let me leave for a few hours a night while Paul was alone outside of my door. I'd slip back into my room before the other guard's next shift. It's not like I hadn't done it before—I was just caught by James the first time.

But I wouldn't escape, even if I tried. Aro would find me. The army has grown too much not to. Paul knew.

His heaving anger loosened as the police reports crackled through the tense room. We both looked back at the screen. Someone was found dead in a downtown building. The descriptions familiar, very much like a black coat. I hoped he wouldn't have noticed.

When Paul let go of me to stare at the screen, filtering letters on the list, I knew. I was free. He looked at me like I was a psychotic person. Pity, I guess. "You're already insane, Bella. You'll never find anything," he said, shaking his head. He sighed, with a rub of his head. I gave him the please-with-a-cherry-on-top look. "Fine, whatever. Knock yourself out. But if anyone sees you..." he threatened before rolling his eyes. He relented.

So, here I am and I can hardly believe it. I'm walking down a street where people are gathered. Where sirens beam in red and blue. Officers in blue, push the onlookers behind barricades. Everyone wants to see the dead man on a wet ground. And so do I.

I jog up to the crowd. I search on toes, over heads and shoulders too tall. I push my way towards the front like I used to. I grip the blue rail with 'POLICE' written in white.

I search with squinted eyes and a burning heart. For a single iota of hope. A clue. A mark in _his_ color. A ribbon fluttering in the damp wind over a lifeless corpse—that.

I try to find the Red Ribbon Killer_._

With a heavy heart I walk back to Paul across town. I turn the street again, pay my token and take the train. No one notices me sitting at the far corner on a plastic seat. Everyone goes about their night, trying to get home to a cold dinner nuked in a microwave. To another alley where they call home, or a dorm with loud drunken roommates. But freedom, no less. I'm envious.

I go back to a penthouse where Paul nods at me when I walk out of the elevator at the top floor. He was pacing. He was nervous. His eyes on his watch before they caught my wary one. He huffs, trying to hide the fear of my absence.

"Anything?" he asks with humor, opening my door to usher me in.

I just walk in and close it behind me. _No, nothing. But this won't be the last._

Night after night I find freedom in the span of two hours. Night after night I find nothing in bloody puddles.

Men with the perfect description of a black coat are found dead in various places. One in a car. A few in government buildings. The biggest massacre was at a nightclub a town by the penthouse. A killing spree was more like it. The building evacuated, putting out drunken citizens and go-go dancers.

But in all of them there were no ribbons. No signs of _him_.

Two weeks later I'm fighting with Paul again, "Give me the guns, you prick!" And so it begins.

"That's the way you repay me? After all I've done for you?"

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry. Give me the guns, you _small_ prick."

He stares at me. "You're not leaving tonight." He begins to walk out.

_Fuck. I've pissed him off. _I sigh. "Look, I need something. It gets dangerous. I can't be empty handed."

"Dangerous? That settles it then. You're not going."

"Wow, never knew you cared so deeply for my well-being," I smile.

"I don't give a fuck."

"You do. So you're going with me," I deadpan.

He makes a face. I swear the vein in his forehead will pop. I want to laugh...or stand back. "I'm your personal bodyguard now?" he asks. I shrug. "Over your dead body, Bella."

"Well, duh. It's Ms. Phoenix now, remember? You have to do what I say." I pick on my nails and lean on the wall by the door of my office. I look up at Paul's glowing face from the lit screen. "Maybe I should tell Aro my doorman continues to harass Ms. Phoenix with dirty looks. Maybe I should tell Aro his helper is a pervert. _Maybe_...you'll die because you can't think without your dick." I lift my eyebrows in challenge.

He has no words. I love no words coming out of his gaping mouth.

"In? Or dead?" I ask.

"You're an evil fucking _bitch._" I take a step to the side. I swear that vein's gonna pop.

"A yes then? Let's go. Show me your car."

Wow, he's pissed. We're walking through a garage on the ground floors of the building an hour later. Of course I didn't make it easy for him to leave his post for a few hours. I had to leave first, hide in the street at the side of the building and wait for him.

"Did you tell them you had the shits?" I want to know how he got out of keeping guard of my front door. The benefits of working for Aro doesn't exactly include sick days.

He doesn't even look at me. That's fine. As long as he keeps moving, I'll keep talking.

I continue to irritate him. "What kind of car do you have now?" He doesn't respond, of course. "I remember the dump you had when you were sixteen. Remember that?" I laugh, slapping my thigh loudly, "Oh my god! Remember when it stalled right in the middle of the freeway and you crawled away from incoming traffic and ran for the woods crying like a baby? The most _hilarious_ moment of La Push history, I tell yah. I mean, the cops had to drive the Honda back to your house," I wheeze I'm laughing so hard. "Wait, was it a Honda or a Toyota?"

He stops at a black porsche and clicks a button on his keychain.

"Oh, well _excuse me_, Mr. Aro-stuffs-my-pockets. Nice ride," I howl. I know I'm pushing it but I'm really happy right now. I won't ruin my own buzz.

I have shotgun and he pulls out without a word. His large hand lays on my head and he pushes. I sink down into my seat as the moon appears above us. The side alley is swarming with black coats smoking cigarettes on break. _So that's where they hang out. _I realize then Paul never leaves his post at my door at night to smoke. _Why?_

I turn to look at him from my perch with a grin on my face._ I think he cares. _

"Take a right," I guide him. He ignores me. I look up at him and he lifts a hand for me to keep quiet. "Oh so you know where we're going?" I huff. He's such a guy. I look at the road and at least he's going the correct way. I leave it be and reach for the sound system. An mp3 device pops on and he was listening to Biggie Smalls. I can't help but laugh.

"Put your seatbelt on," is all he says.

"I mean, I never knew you as an East coast fan. But if that's your thing..." His jaw sets and I go flying over the dashboard when he hits the brake. "Asshole," I mutter, rubbing my forehead.

We ride silently as I slip the seatbelt on. I watch life pass by my window and pretend i'm on a date with a jerk I'd like to get away from. Even that would be easier than the nerves building in my stomach from reality.

I'm going to check a crime scene for a red clue. What if I do find one? What if he's out there still doing what he's always done before he found me. How will I let me him know i'm alive?

I sigh heavily and Paul stops far from red and blue swirling lights. People are gathered again, watching the scene in front of bar by the bay.

"Follow me. And don't even _think _about leaving my side." He leaves the porsche and walks to my door.

"Excuse me? This is my gig, not yours." I stiffen when he pulls on my chin up to look at him.

"I'm serious, Bella. Someone sees us..." he shakes his head. "One wrong move, we leave. Is that understood?" I snatch away from his grasp.

He's terrified. I can see it in his eyes. He's right. This is dangerous. All kidding aside, the weight of what i'm making him do tonight is heavy. I keep my mouth closed and nod looking away.

He walks in front of me and I follow. He doesn't go straight to the chaos. The doors to the side of the bar is packed with men looking out curiously. He turns slightly to grab my hand. I don't protest.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Paul asks a stranger nonchalantly.

"Some guy just walked out an hour ago and bam, straight shot to his chest," a man in a leather jacket says.

Paul nods. "Did they see the shooter?" The guy shakes his head. His attention aimed for the cops yelling at folks to back up.

I have to get closer. There has to be something on the ground with him. Preferably in red. Paul is pulling on my sleeve when I don't realized I am moving. "Don't," he orders.

"I need to."

He sighs. People are moving forward, enough to sneak behind them. Paul pulls me to a dark corner, closer to the scene. "Hurry up so we can go already."

My steps quicken to leave Paul behind. I stand on my toes to look over shoulders. The corpse is near. His hand reaching for the inside of his coat before he was taken out. Forensics take shots of the body, flash brightening the dark puddle forming under it.

The flash picks up a bright red at the far end of the corpse's foot. My heart quickens. I blink. I get on my hands and knees and crawl behind the crowd. A yellow tape holds back the line from getting any closer. I reach it, making a bystander stagger to my right above me.

The view is perfect in front of me until I'm suddenly pulled back. "What the _fuck_ are you doing?" Paul hisses. He lifts me from my collar and pulls me against his chest. The red makeshift necklace I wear around my neck with the tusk digs into my skin. It snaps.

"Get off me," I grunt. I push him away and he pulls off what's left of the necklace. It dangles in his hand. The tusk falls and skids across the pavement, towards the corpse and flashing lights.

_Oh my God. _My knees buckle and I reach out with a desperate hand as it rolls away beyond the yellow tape.

I look up to curse and yell at Paul, but he isn't looking at me. "Bella, move," he orders, pulling on my shoulders. I look to where his eyes are wide and there's a familiar face. _Shit._

_The tusk_. I kneel to grab it but he pulls me again. I fight but this time his grip is desperate. The red ribbon cord of my necklace is ripped in two pieces, threaded through his fingers. He wrings his palm free of the red material to grab me harder. I watch, horror striking my chest at how quickly this night turned fucked in so many ways. The ribbon flutters away, insistent, beyond the yellow tape.

I'm left fighting, my boots skidding across the ground as Paul pulls me away. He's panting with the exertion and fear. "Fuck," he grunts. His back hits a brick wall and i'm pinned against him. I open my mouth to yell at him. To scream and bang my fists into his face, but everything happens so fast and he's pulling on my lips with his mouth when I hear someone coming from behind me.

Paul groans. My mouth feeling the vibration and I choke when I try to pull away, he digs his fingers into my throat to stay.

_What the fuck is he doing? _

"Is that you Paul?" the husky voice straightens my spine. My eyes are wide and looking into Paul's. He pulls away to look over my shoulder.

"James," he nods. I freeze right where I stand. _James—_Aro's commander and chief. The man who I shot once and who saw me that night at Azar's nightclub. The man who helped kill _him._

My forearms are slack against Paul's open jacket as I was pushing on his shoulders. He snakes his arm around my back and pulls me closer. My cheek falls on his shoulder and I stay. _That's it, we're dead._

"I thought you were on tonight," James asks from behind me. It's too dark where we stand, he doesn't know who I am...yet.

Paul stiffens and squeezes the living shit out of my back under my jacket. He turns his head and kisses my cheek, still hidden under his neck. I can't even breathe. But then his hand moves. My teeth grind as he moves lower. I flinch when he grabs at my butt and squeezes.

"Yeah, well, you know...had some business," Paul slurs. He squeeze me again and..._oh..._it blinks like a lightbulb in my head. He's asking me to move. Begrudgingly, but I do.

I snake my shaking hands under his jacket and hug him close. I turn my face into his neck and make a sound. It's more of a whimper than sexy. His hand cups the back of my head and he rustles my hair through his fingers. He pushes my lips against his neck as a clue. I nip at the skin a bit too hard. His jaw flexes.

James chuckles a bit under his breath. "I see you're busy."

"Yup, really, really...busy. So if you don't mind..." Paul says, grabbing my ass again. He flinches. I bite his shoulder when he tries to reach for my breast. He aims elsewhere. I hitch a leg around his hip.

"Lucky bastard," I can hear the shake in his head. "You never did share."

Paul makes a peep. His fingers twitch around my thigh when I writhe around him too close. He clears his throat. "Ah...you know me. Greedy fucker as always." He moans deep in his chest. I press my lips together to not make a disgusted sound to his involuntary one. _Gross._

"I'll leave you to it then. Don't stay out too late kids." I stiffen when a lock of my hair is pulled as James walks by. He chuckles. I'm looking up at Paul and his eyes are large staring after him.

"Fuck...fuck, motherfuck," he wheezes. He doubles over and I back away to wipe my mouth from his cologne. My limbs are shaking. I'm panting and so is Paul when I look at him. He looks around the corner of the brick wall and back at me.

"Nice," I spit, straightening my clothes.

"Oh, like you would've had a better idea. Christ, we're dead. We're so fucking dead." He's pacing, pulling on his hair.

"We're not. Just calm down," I roll my eyes.

"Calm down? This is all your fault! I should've never...FUCK! We're leaving, _now!" _

"No! I need to get my necklace."

"Who gives a shit about a necklace?"

I whip my head around, "I give a shit! It's mine." He sighs rolling his eyes.

I begin to walk towards the ambulance packing up to leave. Cops are scattered around talking, looking down at the ground where the mess lies. People have grown bored. Some went back inside of the bar. Life goes on.

"Don't give a fuck, Swan. We're going back." He pulls me. But nothing. I don't feel anything. Paul is miniscule to what just grips my chest in utter disbelief at what I see. Paul comes into view, blocking my eyesight from a detective gingerly picking up the tusk and red string in his gloved hand. He stuffs them into a clear bag with 'Evidence' labeled boldly in black.

"Oh my God," I whisper. Paul's head cuts from me to my pointed finger. "Oh, shit, oh fuck."

"What?" Paul growls.

"That! They think my necklace is evidence!" I'm panting and lean on the wall. My fingers pull on my hair. "This is all your fucking fault. Look what you did, Paul! Oh, shit, oh _fuck!_"

The door to the bar swings open and bangs against the wall to our right. James walks out with a blonde under his arm. Paul pulls me to hide. My foot bangs on a trashcan. It rattles. James turns to look over his shoulder. His eyes catches mine for an instant before I stagger back. Paul and I stumble to the ground in tangled legs and elbows.

I'm on my back. I stare up wide eyed at Paul leaning above me. His face frozen the same. A woman howlers a profanity, the blonde. Boots pound on the pavement soon after, James. Every step is angry and hurried.

"Move!" Paul whispers. We find our footing and run.

The back alley is dark. I look back at Paul and his eyes are terror. Leaves beyond the fence beside us casts shadows over his form hastily as he runs. His jacket billowing behind him.

Paul looks back and James is in sight. He stops at the corner where the trash barrel still lies. My steps quicken when his knit brows turn to anger. His hand reaches in his coat. He pulls out a gun. He shoots. The shrill reaches every nerve of my limbs but doesn't hit.

Paul reaches my side and grabs my elbow to hurry. I can see his gun sitting in his halter...tempting to me, whispering to me. He doesn't even reach for it to defend this.

Another shot sounds from behind us. I duck. A spark shoots up from a metal pipe beside me. It bends. He's not aiming for Paul, but at me.

_Fuck this. _

Without a second thought I reach inside Paul's jacket. He looks down. He gasps. His steps falter and he slides on a wet patch of ground. He stops ahead of me where I left him behind. "BELLA!"

_BANG. _I pull and pull and the strength pushes at my arm. My teeth grind.

James leaps. His foot is only visible behind a large dumpster where he hides. I run. Paul is gaping when I pass him by. He moves. Finally. I hear him join me when another shot rings behind us. "Fuck!" he shouts. He pushes me off to the side. My shoulder hits a brick wall. I push him away where he covers me.

5, 6, 7, 8. I count. My arm is extended against the wall where Paul pins me. James hides a second time.

"Paul, _please..._don't hold me back. Don't stop me from this," I growl at him. He blinks. He knows I need to do this. I need vengeance for what he did to _him_. "This is mine," I spit with anger. I see red.

Paul slowly steps aside. Just in time. Everything happens so fast but I see movement from the corner of my eye. I grab Paul and we drop. A shot over our heads. We're in a stoop, with walls cocooning a door. I crawl out under ricocheting shots exploding bricks.

If I can't get him from above, I'll shoot from below. The dirt and rocky ground rubs on my jeans. I push myself with my boots. Paul's back lands against a tree trunk close by. He flinches with every passing shot above us. He doesn't have an extra gun.

James stops. Everything grows silent. I can hear far away something is happening. I look back at Paul. His eyes wide. The cops who were over a crime scene left it behind to find us. "They're coming," I mouth.

I hear James curse. I see his boot appear far away from under the dumpsters wheels in front of me. I aim.

_BANG. _

The boot on his foot splits. He drops on a knee. His growl is loud and fierce. "Fucking bitch!"

Sirens call and they're getting closer. I stand and James is looking back. I aim again. My hand trembling. This time I wait. I breathe. His eyes turn, and I know, this is it. "For him," I breathe. Shot number 10 rips through his shoulder when he tries to aim. 11 rips a hole through his heart.

_For him._

All I feel is Paul pulling me when I run. A locked gate comes into view before us. _Shit. _I'm panting so hard I only grab the fence with tense fingers when I reach it. I gasp. In the blink of an eye I'm airborne. Paul grunts beneath me. He grabs me by my waist and hoists me up and over. I crash over cardboard boxes and trash. I whimper, calling his name. He's climbing the fence with ease. I shuffle to my feet and move. He drops. We stop.

Flashlights brighten the alley. Multiple boots on pavement rampage down the path. "Freeze. Drop your weapon!" a cop shouts from a far. So I do. My heart pounds in my chest. _We're dead._ I gape, watching them aiming at James before they realize he's dead. They rush to him. Some call for more help.

Paul slowly pulls on my sleeve. We take a quiet step back, deeper into the shadows. The cacophony of orders thrives in the background as we stare. They haven't seen us. It wasn't for us. We look into each others shocked faces. He grabs his gun.

Never in the long time I've been in this mess, did I think vengeance would be so easy. Paul pulls me. We turn around and don't stop when we run faster this time.

_I killed James. _I'll never have to worry about him again. As terrified and weak as my limbs are, my shoulders weight less. I take a heart pounding breath.

The maze of buildings around us is dark enough to disguise. We sprint to the Porsche. When it comes to view, we simultaneously grunt with a refined strength to get there. Paul fumbles with the key. I look back. _Click_ and we jump in. The tires screech and Paul is a far better driver than he used to be.

"FUCK!" he shouts. I start. My trembling hand covers my mouth. I stare out the windshield as Paul yells and yells for it seems like hours. His fists bang on the steering wheel and I sit back and take it. I take it all because I dragged him into this. And now this. _This._ We could've died.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. My betraying voice brakes. My eyes water as I watch the road speed faster and faster with his increasing anger.

The worse part comes when Paul is so angry, he grows quiet the whole way back to the Penthouse. I don't speak.

The crowd of black coats smoking outside of the building are oblivious to what he witnessed, what I did. I sink down into my seat again as we pass them. My legs are jelly when I climb out of the car. The ground garage is quieter and eerie somehow. And this time, instead of laughing and running my mouth at Paul, I gnaw at my lip to keep the hysteria from escaping. I look up at him and he's not here, but in his head.

We reach the freight elevators and he pushes me away to step inside. He has to go up first to give himself a head start. He towers like a giant between the closing doors and stops them with his palms.

"Your better hold onto your luck real tight, Ms. Phoenix, because you'll be running on your own from now on. We're done."

The doors close. He's gone. I stand in an empty garage with a jumbled mind and I know he's right. I had to lose my necklace to figure that out. Luck ends here.

—–•—•—•

Bacon. The signature scent that morning has come. The comfort of a new day. I wake up feeling light, calm. A dream of sage eyes and hands against my cheek. I held it in mine for what felt like eternity. Too bad the good dreams fade when consciousness seeps in. My lids unstick. I stretch. I blink._ Why is breakfast waking me? _My heart speeds in a nano second. I sit up in bed. Silverware clinks on ceramic outside of my room.

I swing my legs off the bed. My baggy sweats gather at my feet. I shift my tank top to straighten it. The doors to my room are slightly ajar. No one should be here at this time of day.

"Hello?" The hinges creeks when I pull. A shadow passes by the adjacent wall of the living room I see at this angle. I stride to the bend of the wall entering the open space. I freeze with wide sleep-filled eyes.

Aro has a kitchen towel over his right shoulder. His light gray suit jacket is hanging over the back of a chair of the breakfast table. His sleeves are rolled up as he places a full plate down. He looks up.

"Ah. You're up. Come. It'll get cold," he smiles and motions with two fingers towards a seat.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

His eyebrows lift in question. Amusement on his freshly shaven smirk. His hair is immaculate. His tailored pants hangs fitted to his frame over shiny shoes. Everything but his unbuttoned shirt and rolled up sleeves is pristine, it's all throwing me off. "Hello to you too. I've missed you."

"Get out."

"Sit down."

We speak at once.

His smirk widens, "Not a chance."

I don't move. He pulls off the towel and places it on the table. He walks around it slowly, like I might run. His eyes move over my frame, too long at my chest, up my neck, lips, finishing at my glare. "Looks like you can use some breakfast. I slaved over this meal for you. You could at least have the decency to _sit." _His last word is sharp. Like his patience slipped for a second. He rights it with a smile.

His hand reaches for a lock of bed head on my shoulder. I step away. "Adorable. Breakfast in bed every morning if I knew you'd look this warm."

A war and we stand there glaring at one another. I don't see him for over two months and here he is...with all of this. _Aro made breakfast. _

My fucking growling stomach is a surrendering white flag. He chuckles, finding it endearing. He acts like the night at the opera house was news on TV, it happened to someone else.

He reaches for my arm and this time he pulls, I can't step away. Or I'm too dumbfounded to react. _Aro made breakfast._ I stare at pancakes, toast, eggs, fruit and, of course, bacon.

He pushes the seat in far enough under the table so I won't escape. The towel goes over my lap while I'm distracted with flower shaped strawberries. His Rolex grazes my torso in the process. I flinch. I snatch the towel out of his fists. He steps away with surrendering hands and takes a seat beside me. His mood never falters.

He gets started with forearms casually touching the table. He reaches for the coffee kettle and pours us both a share. He picks up the sugar and spoon next and looks at me. He waits. I just stare into ice blue eyes that haunt. "Two then," he says and does just that. He picks up the cream in a small porcelain container and looks at me again. He sighs after excruciating silence and pours an inch. He repeats the process for his with clinks as he stirs.

He grabs the crystal spout filled with maple syrup and swirls the pancakes on my plate. He gently speaks, "I enjoy cooking. My specialty has always been buttermilk pancakes. You're in luck." He moves to his plate and swirls a hefty amount. _Aro likes syrup. _He sucks sticky sweet off a thumb. He grabs his fork, cuts off a slice and takes the bite. "I can never understand why women found mornings like these more intimate. To be pampered. Cherished," he pauses, a stack of cake speared in his fork for the second bite hangs in the air.

"Alessandra, an Italian woman I met once in Venice, wasn't too keen on my pancakes," he shakes his head remembering. He takes the bite and chews slowly. He swallows. His motions graceful yet masculine. Every tendon in his forearms work to fill his appetite.

"Beautiful...but very, very stubborn," he says. He points at me with the empty fork, "Much like you. Though she lacked your fearlessness and _audacity_."

The words bite like flaws. I suddenly flinch when his fork clatters on his plate.

He reaches over my side. He grabs my utensils and cuts the pancakes on my plate into pieces. He continues, "Her dislike for my cooking was a deal breaker. I was glad to see her go," he murmurs. I watch his temple move so close to me as he chews remnant pieces in his mouth. _He probably killed Alessandra._

Just where he's leaning, he turns his head to face me. A long moment like this before his eyes move to my lips. "Eat," he orders. The full fork descending close between us. He's tries to feed me.

I do because I'm hungry and because he's oddly being nice.

I grab the fork's stem where his fingers are. I pull it out of his grasp. He watches it disappear between my lips and when I chew. He sits back to wait for a reaction. I know this. My taste buds burst in a balance of sweet and salty.

_Fuck, it's good._

I bring the coffee to my lips nonchalantly, trying to hide it. I take a sip of that.

_Fuck, he was right about that too. _

Warmth coats my stomach perfectly. He watches. I won't give him the satisfaction. I won't. But then my fork twitches between my fingers for another slice. I sigh.

Hours it seems, but the moment I give in he's smiling so brightly, it could lighten the room alone. He picks up his utensil again and continues. I angrily stab at the perfect golden fluff.

_Fucking fluff._

"We have much to catch up. I've decided it's been long enough. I couldn't stay away. But I think you've learned your lesson." I ignore him. I'm pretty much a famished pig with every mouthful of eggs and deceiving bacon. If he'd want to kill me with poison, so be it. I want this.

"We have a flight to Canada in an hour."

I stop. He's looking over the terrace drinking his coffee.

"What?"

"There's a gathering. Attendance is mandatory. Plans have changed."

I drop my fork. _Fuck. _Tonight I planned on my two hours of freedom. My goal: To break into a morgue to search for a red clue. A body was found last night. I didn't make it in time but tonight was my only chance to find it_. _Credentials to pass security would've been tricky. But it's been a couple of days since...James.

The word got out on the mystery. The news were all over the double blood shed in one night. James's profile was all over my big screen. Paul didn't let up on what the army was saying about it. He kept his mouth shut. He didn't say much at all at first. No foam warmth for me. He was furious for a long time—at me, not what I did. Though he'll never say it, I think James death is a relief to him. To me as well, though I find myself staring at walls for my sin.

It was long nights after that trying to get Paul on my good graces. Lots of begging and sitting by my door all night with a crack open, letting the hallway light seep through. A gap to fit my lips to beg or sing an off key song for him. It was tough, but I saw the slight smirk that one night. I knew I was golden. Now I'm craving for more adventure, sans Paul, of course. I was going to ask him for freedom tonight. This yearn to find never stops. I won't stop.

I look up at Aro and he doesn't show a sign if James's death affected him. Or if he suspects anything about me. Paul is still breathing. I'm still alive. Life truly does go on.

I watch him across from me. Serenity in his posture. The flick of an invisible lint off his shoulder is where he keeps his full attention. He brushes life off his shoulder. Easy.

I grow angry.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," I utter. I begin to stand. A utensil clatters. The air before me cuts swiftly. I start. The table knife stands straight, stuck to the table between my ring finger and the middle. I look up.

His palm smooths his hair back. He settles comfortably in his seat. The coffee cup still in his other hand as he sips, watching the clouds settle in. "Nonsense. You'll enjoy the flight."

I pull back my hand and cradle it against my chest. I feel my heart pounding there. I can't speak.

"Go on, now. Get yourself ready or we'll be late," he calmly says after he swallows.

I march to my room because what else can a prisoner do? But not before the plate full of _fucking fluff _flies and crashes over the terrace floor.

––•––––•––––•

The roar of a crowd is far. I remember this hall. I walked through it on bare feet. A blanket covered me from harm and the feel of _his_ skin was still fresh in my palm. The lump in my throat knows I still feel him anyway, after all this time.

Aro pushes me forward when I slow my pace. My toes in my peep toe heels flex trying to keep my balance. He pushes and months in socks isn't helping. I'm out of practice with civilization. This place is far from it.

The stone walls are the same; dark, damp and entrapping. And then I remember—Jakes picture with _his _mark on the fabric. Big on a wall and displaying the truth that was my real love and his strength.

God I miss him.

The roar gets stronger but this time I'm prepared. It doesn't change the nerves as it bubbles in my stomach. The army. The black coats. And they cheer.

I make a baffled noise in my throat and it's loud enough to make Aro turn to look. Just in time to see the shake in my head. I blink and look away. Ridiculous. People giving up freedom to do this.

The doors open and the noise is deafening in my ears. Aro raises his arms in silent thanks. I want to tell them...I want to scream. _Run._ _Find your lives again,_ because this is ridiculous.

Jelena, Vanessa and Paul, all stand at their usual spots down below—sans James. The wary look in Jelena's red eyes isn't a coincidence. I can't hide a grin. _You're next. _

High up here, everyone looks small, making one feel superior, powerful, stronger. But of course, not for me. I feel the scrutiny of many staring back at me, the intruder, the former barer of a key—nothing else. I'm a nobody. I wonder why I'm still here as Aro raises his voice to speak.

"What do we do when a puzzle is missing? We scavenger through every crevice and dirty street to find it and take it. We _will _take it. Dr. Carlisle Cullen must be found."

I want to laugh. Because they will seek and never find. Ever. The crowd agrees with him because they are spineless.

Alistair watches from Aro's left. I want to hurl at the looks he sends my way. I stand just behind the double doors, away from the massive people like I have before, but he still watches like i'm front and center. Leering in his want of what he can't get.

Aro motions a palm towards him. His words are a blur but I know what he's doing. Aro is making him partner of this mess.

I am not enough. I go against Aro's grain instead of with. My resistance won't help him get what he needs. Alistair will.

_Forgive me, Mom, but I can't do what these people say._

My eyes wander over a howling crowd who welcomes the Russian man in black. He smiles and lifts a palm. He takes a step forward, close enough for all to see well. And at the far right of my sight someone moves forward through the crowd. I blink.

No one sees Azar hidden in shadows but me.

My spine stiffens. My heart quickens. The sneer over his lips pierces straight through my veins.

_Azar._

Still alive and mischievous. Relief like a cold stream down my chest when I take a heaving breath. I look back at Aro and Alistair who are ignorant of this secret. I don't waste time, I slip my heels off. Some deep shit will happen tonight...and I am willing.

The wind is pulled from my lungs at the sight of gleaming metal moving from different locations over the crowd. All are ready and aiming at the leader and his new friend. Azar's hood over his head covers the beam coming from his temple. The gadget ready and aiming wherever his eyes lay.

I stand back, I pull at the belt of my trench and I wait.

Paul's eyes flicker to mine. His brows knit when he finds my expression. A lift of my curled lip is enough. He knows something is up. He looks around and looks back at me. He won't see it, he won't. He's not one of the privileged who gets to stand up here and see the storm about to whirl.

He looks at me just as my eyes finds Azar's again. But its too late. Paul can't do a thing. It's too late for him to even open his mouth to warn.

An earthquake shakes the floors. It shakes my soul and bare feet that stagger to hold on. I gasp.

Aro's voice breaks. The crowd grows silent and everyone looks up.

Stones and bricks and sand crumbles over unprotected skulls below. Boulders of hard, old stones falls from the ceiling. People scream. Some are already crushed under the weight. There is a hole forming through the vaulted cathedral ceilings.

Explosions from different angles erupt. The ceiling falls more. Sand and debri billows in a cloud.

This is when people begin to run. This is how I know the plan is sabotaged to make room for a bigger one. Azar and his men are also bystanders like everyone else. People are dying, right in front of my wide eyes.

Aro shouts. He's on the floor and black coats are all over him. They pull and pull until he's under the threshold of the doors I'm hiding behind, watching a scene from apocalypse reflecting back into my eyes.

Stray bullets hit black coats all around Aro, trying to get to him. I don't know if the shots come from Azar's men or the mystery men. A couple fall to their death on top of him. Alistair is already dead. His chest red. Crimson leaks from under him and his eyes are vacant staring back at me. Azar looks down at him and back at the chaos over the balcony. He screams and screams with vicious anger. In the blink of an eye, his army is dying and under attack.

I don't waste time. The adrenaline shoots through my numb legs. I move. I run.

My hands grip the railing and I look over the inferno below. Fire consumes and attaches to bodies in agony. They shrivel, some run engulfed. The dust from the ceiling settles and I can see the moon, full, blue and shining its glory over a red hades.

I look for Azar and he looks for me. He's on the floor, pulling and pushing against bodies to get to me.

"Azar!" I scream. He looks up. I point and I point towards the chaos, "Go find them. Go find Carlisle!"

The billowing fire reflects on his brown eyes and he doesn't listen. He looks down to find his footing, to push at people running the other direction.

"No!" I scream at the top of my lungs, because he has to leave me. He has to go find what is more important. Alice, Corporal, Emmett, and Rose are out there. They are doing this. This is their war. Azar needs to tell them everything or we'll never find them again.

He looks up at me, he shakes his head not understanding. "That way! Go find Carlisle. He's with them!" He looks behind him at the mass of the dying. He shakes his head. I'm practically jumping over the railing. The anxiety. The hurry of wanting to be heard or I'll die. I scream and scream for him to go.

Firm hands grip my arms. I'm pulled. Azar looks up and sees my struggle with black coats pulling me along with Aro. But I scream and scream, "_Go! Go find Carlisle!_"

Darkness consumes me. The doors close. The Army is left to fend for themselves. I heave and stare at still doors, because before they sealed shut, I watched Azar run to the other way—just as I asked him.

The feeling bubbles from inside with relief. With victory. I may not be free but Azar will find them. Soon I will be. Soon this will all be over. It's the only thing I can muster from the nerves inside as my limbs tremble.

Aro is in my face. He shouts and shouts and I try to focus but I can't help but smile.

"You did this! You bitch!" he sneers on his knees above me. His lips on my cheek with anger as he grips my hair in tense fists. I didn't. That's the funny part of his threat. I didn't do anything this time. I sat back and watched Aro getting _fucked _by people I used to know. Killers who are stronger than any Army he'll ever grow.

"You're a dead man walking, Nicholi Aro," I whisper, with a grin still pulling with victory. He slaps it away with blood smeared hands, soaked from the bullet that pierced his shoulder. I taste my own blood in my mouth. His hand connects two, three more times, because he knows i'm right.

I just laugh.

—•—•—•—•

Chicago News:

"_We interrupt your regular programing for this breaking news. Officials are puzzled for the suspicious evidence found in a crime scene in front of a bar late at night. This was the same night the Chicago PD heard gunshots on the same premises before finding another man dead by an alley. But there's more mystery.__Reports were skeptical to share this information with the public until they were sure of the surprising identity of this discovery. The evidence was none other than a red ribbon found nestled under one the body's foot. _

_Could this be a conspiracy? Or is this a sign that the Red Ribbon Killer is really alive?_

_Questions have erupted of these two deaths being connected or if they share the same link as the death of Isabella Swan over a year ago. She was a local journalist who was announced dead by the slaying of the Red Ribbon Killer. His death was pronounced shortly after by Chicago PD's Lieutenant Charles Swan. Today we speculate, was his death a hoax?_

_Detectives are on this new case, diligently, searching for more evidence like this ribbon so small, yet large in magnitude. Still, no further details or red clues has been found. _

_Further news on this development on our eleven o'clock news. Keep safe chicago."_

—•—•—•

* * *

**A/N since this is almost over...a review please? A rec? Pretty please with sugar on top? *Bella face* Show me you love me and that you're still with me! Yes? :-D I love you for adding. What are your thoughts as to what will happen? I'd love to know. ;-)**


	27. Chapter 26: Fate

**A/N I'll just leave this right here.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — you can hit me with it. S'ok.**

—•—•—•

_**Sound: Labyrinth Ear - Navy Light**_

—•—•—•

**Chapter 26 - Fate**

Fate takes too long. The days slips like quicksand, yet fate is idle, locked in a time capsule to be opened in a year I fear I won't see. Fate happens when the moment is correct. For stars aligning in the right place to make things meant to be.

But I have no patience. I wait with obligation. My body is tired, but moving. My brain is foreign. It's me, but it's not. Who am I anymore? Wasted or dead. Staring at gold trimmed walls that do not break and let a caged bird fly away. At windows wide enough for a stampede, but not wide enough for my need. The sun shines on red lids, closed, staring at flecks of veins filling, still living. Watching dust travel from a sun beam to the next as they float freely with life, more than mine. Mine. Or someone elses, not mine.

Tears are long dry and anxiety too numb. Hope to doubt and relief from worry to defeat. I don't know me anymore. Not the jagged nails digging into cuticles, farther into my fingers. Hair that was shiny and now dull through these cut fingers. A bouncing knee of _hurry _is still, under me, covered in sweats that are stained and twisted with rumpled days of sitting, laying, or bent knees on white carpeted floors, soaking up tears and hate and banging fists.

The door has been locked for centuries now, or a month. It's all the same.

Paul is long gone. Moved, to someplace else, to another door to watch. Foam warmth is but a memory to my tongue, to my finger-tips. Silence for so long after I thought would be the end.

_Paul, I need you. _

_I need your help. Where are you? I know you're angry_,_ but I beg of you. I'll do anything. Find Azar. I need to know he's safe. I need to know he found them. _

_Paul, please..._

Message after message. My laptop is still useful for something. I send Paul messages once, twice, three times a day. But he never answers. I don't know where he is.

Someone showed up, but it wasn't Paul. Servants and maids, cleaning around me, restocking shelves of things I don't use. Those days I come to. Forget the floating dust and sun. I focus enough to see that door wide open and crawl or run for it. But there's always a face who isn't Paul. Guns almost blazing, pointing at me and I just wish they'd blaze. Grabbing at the barrels and aiming it right between my eyes. But they're cowards and look at me like insanity is such a surprise. They push me away. Once, too hard. A table's corner at my head and I lied there for the rest of the day seeing stars that never aligned.

At my office, the big screen tells me nothing. Some chaos of everyday life feeds through the endless list of people's sins. Nothing I need to know. Nothing I'm dying to know that would benefit me and get me out of here. Azar is quiet. I don't know if he ever found them like I asked him to. I fear he gave up on me. I fear he's dead. No news from anyone. From nothing. The army suffered, at least, but all for nothing.

I check the date on the monitor and its been too long. The date changes from Monday fifth to Seven and the door is pushed open. Silence. I'm in my room and I listen. It's not a maid. The scurrying that happens during cleaning and moving is not there. I move to my door quietly, peeking around the wall.

Shiny shoes and tailored folded cuffs covering the thin laces. I don't come out. I won't run to the door this time. But I know he notices. The mess. Upside down couches. Plants skewed with dirt soiling the carpets. The glass table we had breakfast on that day, shattered with a blow. Too much sunlight with torn curtains and burned wood of a chipped baby grand piano blackened in the fireplace.

I don't remember when, but I know it wasn't anyone else. Maids don't destroy, but clean.

He says nothing. We both know where we stand, me hiding, him seeing. What has grown in me is not well.

Silence is a giant and he keeps his thoughts quiet as his icy eyes move to take it all in. I shift to peek around more, revealing more of knotted hair and clammy skin under a dirty shirt. I see him. Looking nothing like me. Hair neat and his face shaven down clean to his sharp jaw set to cut. I see his arm has healed. The bullet through his shoulder was just a prick to his nine lives. It hangs at his side. Tight fists by his narrow hips. The belt and pleats of his black slacks are sharp. He looks perfect for a dead man walking.

My senses come to again. I blink. To see someone familiar makes my skin prickle. Alone for so long, even Aro looks like sanity is out there, still living, going on with its life, and i'm here without it. He brings back clarity. My bare feet twitch to run to him. To beg. To show him the way i've been. To let him be kind and make me breakfast. That I promise not to ruin it this time. Anything to let me leave this place and feel. To live. Work. For Renee.

Anger has fled with desperation. I'd do anything. But I'm ashamed. He looks at the shattered things and his eyes are set. I'm insane. Not fit for showing my face. I couldn't convince him of anything right now even if i tried.

So I hide. And he goes away. I start when the door slams. And I know. I have to fix this, or he'll keep walking out to leave me here.

I head straight to the bathroom. I scrub until my skin is red. My hair. Everything lathered in layers of soap. I shave and pluck and even sit with staggered breaths to paint my toes and nails, red.

The closet is foreign now. I move around it not remembering much of where anything is, or those black shoes with the ribbon tied in a bow in the back. I'm on my hands and knees and chiffon is flying and silks are trickling to the carpet...and there they are. Now for a decent dress.

I find everything and gingerly place it on a chaise by the bed. Tomorrow. I know he'll come back. But God, I don't know what he'll do. I know, though, the living room will be clean and presentable by then.

Something needs to be done.

The sun falls behind tall buildings, leaving twilight, and soon, a blue night. I awake to the sun coming up again, arriving like an old friend, but never with good tidings. I forget where I lie. I always forget. A blink, a sigh, when I do remember. It takes a minute to settle in. Sorrow drowns peace of sleep, barely leaving me above its dense waters.

I prepare myself slowly. Hair, makeup, dress and shoes. The tusk necklace is gone, lost in a crime scene. And then I think of that for a while, standing in front of the mirror.

Far away I can hear the rustling. The elevator door dings faintly outside my door. All morning I've been in the livingroom I cleaned for hours yesterday, waiting. And I know he's coming. I stand and walk to the window. It's just a moment until I hear the knob turn and he walks in. A breeze chills the room. Silence.

He steps in and my skin prickles. Butterflies in my stomach. My nails dig into skin when I feel heat radiating through my thin dress behind me. His cologne is masculine musk through my nostrils. He waits.

The city below goes on with its day. If nothing is done about this room, this prison, days will go on without me. The sun is shining and I watch the skyline kissed with warmth of morning. His lips on my shoulder does the same.

"Don't be angry," he whispers by my ear. It's all I need when I turn and look up at him. I blink. He's the same. Radiance, confidence, calm. Dark hair and blue eyes that dilate as they descend from my gaze to my lips. The shoes with bows on my feet slowly slip off when I reach on toes. I catch his lips.

Nicholai Aro is shocked to silence when I pull away, stealing a kiss.

He thinks. His head tilted watching me. He breathes from his nose that's barely touching mine. It takes just a moment...a moment of greed and an exhale of finality. He touches me. I'm surrounded in him, lips and arms.

I don't know what's come over me, but I think I've found it when I part my lips. He's ravenous and desperate. He tastes the same as I remember. He feels the same as I remember. My palms are over his crisp white shirt inside his jacket, to his shoulders.

"Forgive me," I whisper when we break to breathe. His mouth traveling down my neck. His thumb at my nape. He pulls me roughly against him, an arm around my waist. He looks at me and tries for a third kiss. My eyes follow my hand to his arm. "Does it hurt?" I ask about the wound that once was. He stops. He shakes his head faintly. We settle into a comforting silence that's not odd considering where I'm standing. I'm in his arms. Gentle and firm. He's not evil like this. Just a man, if not like any.

I watch my hand because I won't look up. I can't. I release a button, just under his black tie. A second. A third. I pull on the tie and it gives. Separating and loosening away from the apple at his neck. He's frozen and he lets me. His warm breath down my cheek when I slip a palm in. Skin.

He turns his neck away that's firm and long, for me to reach. I pull at his shirt over that shoulder to look.

Red. An asymmetrical circle of flesh that was ripped and sewed together again. He's human after all. Just bones, muscles and blood.

I move a thumb over that and not even a flinch. He healed while he was away. I bled while I was here, locked away. "I need to live," I whisper to his chest, where I skim a palm from the line of his neck, his collarbone, down his peck.

"Are you prepared?" he responds, a held breath with my descend.

I am. I have been. How dare he? But my tongue is held. Even when I dip to kiss his chest.

I flinch.

He pulls my hair in his balled hand. He forces me to look at him. My heart picks up. I don't have time to catch a breath when he kisses me again. His eyes are closed. Mine blink to watch him. To watch myself. This is me, drowning. I taste his eager tongue and this is me, kissing him with tears burning my eyes. He sighs. I tug at his full lip and kiss his chin. He's already pulling at my dress and skin. Lace threatening to break.

The door.

A knock and Aro is furious. A growl vibrates through his chest pressed to mine. He steps away. His fingers work the buttons back together as he watches me. Fingers through his hair and he pulls at his tie. "Breakfast?" He waits.

I nod once. My knees ready to fold. Dizzy. Numb.

He doesn't move, then he's on me again. His fingers lift and wipe at my lips. "This isn't nearly finished." He slips a hand in mine and pulls.

I'm out of this hole...and it worked.

-—•—•—-—•

I am quiet and I am listening. I don't want to push this...whatever it is. Freedom. But I'm shaken. My breathing is off and I suddenly crave for my bed, my sweats.

I don't know what's more staggering: My face still smelling of Aro's scent, his fingers crawling between my knees under the table, or Charlie, sitting across from us. I can't say which.

My hands tremble and I've sparked a fire. I've started this. I turn my head just enough to look up at Aro as he speaks. Charlie oblivious. Of course. Hasn't he always been?

Charlie's eyes flicker to mine and I blink slow. My lips part and so do my legs. My fist fiercely grabs a hold of this beast and he won't stop. Charlie looks away and if I wasn't ready to come, I'd scream at him.

Aro let's go just in time. I pull at my dress. I stand. A sway. "Ladies room," I say. Aro pulls me to sit again. He pushes the champagne glass with a bit of orange juice swimming in it. It tastes like there's more than alcohol in it. Grainy, like sand, sticking to my teeth.

"Later. Drink."

I watch Charlie and yell and yell, but my voice doesn't work. He looks away with worry in his brow. Worry. I chuckle once.

The restaurant buzzes and moves and they talk of news and business. I can't focus enough to listen. I look out the window. I look at people. No one looks like Azar, or _him. _Of course, why would they? I'm alone. Nothing worked.

"So many are gone, Aro. The army is diminished now," says Charlie. And then I'm listening.

"Well, use your men. They are better trained. They work with weapons every day. Prepare them."

Charlie shakes his head. "They're law enforcers. They took an oath. I can't involve them. It's not in my power."

"We need to find them. Whatever it takes."

"I...can't, I, it's too risky."

"Figure it out. I don't pay you to stand around. I need that key."

I laugh. They look at me. And so do others at nearby tables. I shake my head. "Nothing," I explain. I fold my napkin again and again. But I won't explain how Carlisle will never give up the key. Ever.

I lift my palms in surrender. A smile on my face. Aro is angry. But what does he expect? A pill in my drink and I will fail.

They continue to speak. Alastair is dead and he was Aro's only chance. Charlie is nothing. Worthless. More so when he pleads. Begs. He's powerless and dirt in Aro's eyes.

I can't eat. A plate full of goods and nothing can go down or be picked up with shaking fingers. So I settle for eating off Aro's fingers when he feeds offers me. "Eat," he hisses. He doesn't mention it again when I slip off a shoe and run it up the cuff of his leg.

"Go and do what I ask of you, Lieutenant. I won't ask again." And breakfast is over. I'm pulled to my unsteady feet and out the door. Charlie in tow.

I crawl into the limo on hands and knees. It's large and dark with tinted windows. Aro slips in beside me, rights me. Grabbing at my legs. But not before he pushes Charlie out. He's not allowed in. The limo moves and Charlie is left to walk.

I watch the window and it's afternoon outside. The workers are out, living. Car horns honking. Traffic slowing and crawling. And Aro is over me. Hands and lips. The bow of my heels dangle in the air. My heel is caught in a seam where the door and window meet. My other heel on his shoulder. My hips move on their own. My hands grip the back of the seats and I'm floating and he's licking. Lace rips and cold on wet skin, ready for growls and lips.

All down the avenue, where no one knows, or sees, I'm climbing, release after release with a fog behind my lids.

The tailor at the boutique is nervous. She bounces around from room to changing room. Fabric and silks of dresses and shoes displayed in front of me and all it takes is a nod or a shake of my head. After a while I shake my head for everything. Aro pulls me away.

The next shop is brightly lit with plush couches and blondes in heels clacking around. Aro is special. Aro is the guest you close down the shop for. We're the only two left, everyone else were rushed out. We arrive from a back door.

"Anything you want," he kisses my temple and squeezes my hip. I roll my eyes. There's nothing here I'd want.

His presence is there, here, everywhere. Even in the dressing room watching me change into silks and wired corsets that go under lady dresses with intentions.

The blondes don't protest when they hear noises and dare not to interrupt. I wish they did. Because I wouldn't be on his lap with knuckles skimming the pleats on his smooth slacks. Buckle clinking and zipper sounding far too loud.

"I knew. I knew you'd give in to me, Ms. Phoenix. We'll be extraordinary together." His lips on my cheek and my hands on his length. His hair is unruly for the first time by my hands. Red nails scratching at his sideburns to a sharp jaw, widened, taking in my left breast. Maybe he's right because the couple I see through the mirrors, stroking, moving, look like an extraordinary pair. His legs under me part and I spread wider on his thighs, suspended, where he touches me bare. We do nothing but this when until a blonde finally knocks.

We leave with four new garments, one intended to show him tonight. His request. I'm invited to a gala. From being locked away for a month to a gala. I breathe deeply. The daze is gone and I feel my lids lift more.

This is me. Living. Outside of my room. His first lady. People watch as we pass by, hand in hand. I dressed in my room and a stylist helped me. No Sue this time. I don't know where she is. Maybe she moved on. Maybe it's a good thing. I don't want her to see me like this. Surrendering. Giving. Her words would be of disappointment.

But my eyes never stop searching. Never stop looking for familiar faces. For someone. But nothing.

Why isn't anyone on my side? Why do I walk amongst the rich and powerful and feel cheap and weak? I'm an island and everyone has forgotten me. Everything was how it should've been, more, at that cathedral. In that inferno where Azar ran into to find my freedom. I should've left with him.

_Stupid_.

I'm on his shoulder when tears slip and I don't even notice. We sway slowly to music that is faint with these loud thoughts. He wipes the tears away with his thumbs like a lover would. "Don't you see? The way they look at us. Envy. I hold the most beautiful woman under this roof. Stay with me, Marie," Aro pleads. He kisses my lips softly.

I look up at the ceiling wishing it would rain down on me. It would mean someone is here to take me away.

I look over Aro's shoulder and find Paul's eyes again. He's on guard for us tonight. I almost ran to him when i saw him. But he now holds a scorn watching me. He paled at first.

_What did you expect?_ I want to yell at him from across the room. All I manage to do is hide my mouth against Aro's neck to keep silent.

The music stops and we part. Aro mingles. I hold his arm or his hand. A pair of curious eyes still follow me. I slip my hand away from Aro's. I can't take it anymore. "Excuse me," I whisper to the gentleman in a tux and gray hair. Aro's fingers snatch my retrieving hand. "I'll be back," I assure him. A kiss on his jaw. That eases him.

I walk to the restroom. Women follow along, always staring. But I watch Paul easing his way around walls watching black coats around him, closer. I slip behind a wall by another hall to the restrooms.

He whispers, "Bella." Shaken and confused.

"Where the fuck have you been?" I try not to yell. He pulls me into a corner where it's dark.

He sighs. He looks around. "Nice show you're putting on. You're fucking him now?" His teeth sharp with a hiss.

"Why? You interested?_" _

He pushes me. My back hits the wall. He stares at me, not amused. I sigh.

"What the fuck?"

"Why haven't you replied to my messages?" He shakes his head. I grip the lapels of his coat. "Paul..." tears spring to my lids. "Please. You know something. You're not telling me."

"Bella..."

"Just fucking tell me!" A women looks. Paul moves to block me.

"I saw Azar two weeks ago, ok? It was...Bella, he..." He hesitates. Widened eyes, I wait.

"What," I seethe. I shake him.

"He didn't find them. He went after them, but nothing. The lab is empty. It has been for weeks, months, I...I don't know. He doesn't know."

My knees buckle. My face buried in his coat. "God..." a sob.

"Bella, please."

"No," I push him. He tries to grab my arm but I pull away.

"Anything could've happened two weeks ago. Anything," says Paul.

"You bastard, and you couldn't tell me! You couldn't? I've been going insane... How..." I move away from the shadows and he follows me. The walkway to the main floor is steps away and he pulls me. His chest to my back. The embrace is rough, but it's there. It's something. "I've been going insane, Paul. I'm..." Tears and hope leaks with them.

"Please, Bella. Please...breathe." He grips the jeweled fabric of my dress. It wrinkles and I can't breathe. I can't. Everything is wrong and crashing.

It's been too long since I've been out here. Aro will find me, him. He'll kill us both.

I pull at his arms and he releases me. "Don't bother following me, Paul. It's ok. You're free from me. It's done." He's stunned behind me. And he doesn't follow when I turn the bend toward the light.

I wipe at streaks and move to see Aro at same place I left him_. I'll do this myself. _I've decided. I will.

The man with gray hair walks away and Aro turns to watch me. Closer and closer. And his eyes grow darker and darker. His growing grin and arms spreading slightly to welcome me.

_I'll do this myself. _

I kiss him with everything I have left that lingers and hurts. Eyes watch and I do not care. My arms curl around him. His neck, his hair. Greed is what it is, because he thinks nothing of this and accepts. Strong arms pull me just as desperately. "I'm tired," I utter. The meaning more ways than one.

We leave and the roof stays intact.

—•—•—•

"Ms. Phoenix," a whisper, a nuzzle at my breast. They harden and my eyes flutter. _Just a man..._

The stones of my dress reflect the warm flames. Dangling at my waist and I grip his tux with white fists. His bowtie loose and touching his bare chest that peeks through the open space I've created. I've created this. Fell in through the doors, barely watching our footing. A shout and an order and guards are far. My door is clear. No need. I'm with him tonight.

I look up. "For once...call me by my name."

His glassy eyes are almost white. The fireplace lit and thundering for us. I blink. A flash of me falling in behind my lids. And maybe I should. End it all. But he pulls the silver dress further down my hips and its final. This will hurt less than fire.

His fingers letting go and jewels pools at my feet. He grabs onto the garment he already saw on me today. Except I wasn't ready then. A groan of acknowledgment and he approves. I already feel naked and this will be far from gentle.

I regret my mouth. Stupid mouth. My birth name on his lips and he gives in to me. It's whispered over and over, bitten on my neck and shoulder. "Isabella." He lifts me. Like nothing. I can't find a stitch of air over his head where he bends. I grab onto neat hair as my back touches a cold mantel and a stiletto heel hooks on a belt. _Just a man, Isabella... _

And I hate nerve endings that deceive and touch that warms, because I haven't been under a man for so long. Especially one like this, with a creased collar at his back, slipping, already off his shoulders. He hastily swings our bodies to the floor. He's too willing. The bedroom is too far. Everything that covered me is off. To my dismay it wasn't much. Faint burn where he pulled.

I close my eyes. I can't watch when he gazes with hovering palms. I can't see me, folded underneath him. Knees to his elbows and he's a man with hands that know what to do and how to kill. That have held many woman, pulling hips and thighs and bended knees hooked over his arms.

I'm panting and pulling on his clothes too, and this is me...inhaling the hypnotizing scent of a malicious man, nose to chest. I hate me. What has grown in me is not well. He pushes deep, like he knows where that trouble is in me. He finds it. It doesn't help.

Like I knew it wouldn't, with a gaping mouth and frenzied gasps. It hurts, but not like fire. He fucks with the greed that devours him. It devours me. My hair filled with tears and my hands are white on his strong shoulders. I'm dragged on the carpet. My body is deceiving, it makes me want it. He is but a man who moves like a crazed lover would. _Just a man..._

"All of you. I want it all. You can't refuse me now," he murmurs at my nape. We're on my disheveled bed that was once sacred to me. We've changed its meaning. I'm weak with fatigue. My back still heaving with this complexity. He pulls at my sweat streaked skin. The desperation gone, just slowly killing me every time I awake. He kisses me, his hand wedged between a bed and sore flesh. I'm lifted to my knees, chest on my back, before a hand drifts up to catch a breast. I watch a moonlit ceiling that moves and he keeps his promise yet again.

This time, I stay awake. On my side and his breathing changed behind me. This is me, with panic in my heart. Frozen limbs. Everything an avalanche through my thoughts. Slept with the enemy to get things. Spent.

My shaking hands grip a stray pillow. _I'll do this myself... _His face relaxed, like a younger man who knows no years like he's lived. The lush, rich, sheets laying over him, like it was made for him. The pulled, damp hair on his head reminding me of someone else. Handsome. And I'd strangle him. I'd take him here.

I press my lips shut with a hand that has touched too much. I choke on laments, because this joke is on me. My weak arms laugh at me. He's taken so much tonight, again and again, I'm too weak now to even attempt it. His murmurs my name in his sleep and I'm too afraid now.

I watch my door for a long stretch of time. It's like the monster under your bed and your feet will be caught first if you climb out. But the monster is on my bed and sleeping soundly after I let him ravish me.

My eyes to the doors that look to be a mile away, to the lashes of his lids, moving slightly. If I can't kill him, I can run. No one at the doors to stop me this time.

I slide my hips inch by inch off the bed. I drop to my knees on the carpet. My thighs scratched and red with the haste of him. The sheets slip off and I crawl.

Stitch naked and I need my boots, the jacket and jeans. The closet never seemed so far away. But I get there and I stand and then I realize I need a better plan. I walk in and turn the dim light on with the door slightly ajar. If he wakes I'm in the bathroom.

I wreck a havoc in this closet and pull on things too slowly for my shaking hands. I zip up the jacket alone and jeans and boots bare. Fuck it, no time. I look around and there's nothing else I need.

I will run. I will run as fast as these weak legs will take me. To Azar. To the lab if I try hard enough to remember. Through woods and a river. I will run to the moon if it means it takes me away from here. But my heart freezes where it pounds. My hand at the door, wedged at the opening, peeking around it. And he's not there.

The bed is empty.

I pull the door closed again. I stand there. I just stand there because _where is he? He was just there. _

I look behind me. Fear is lead in my veins. I weaken, I pale, seeing my own reflection in the closet mirror. I don't hear anything. I never heard a sound coming from the bedroom. I want to cry, burying my face in my hands.

_Move._

I run to the bathroom and flush the toilet. I turn the sink on and run back into the closet.

I'm pulling and ripping the jeans, jacket and boots off. A robe hangs on a plush hanger. I pull on that and slip it on. I breathe... I breathe..._Breathe. _I watch the door and I have to move now.

I step out. The room still empty and _God..._if I only had an Ivory. I turn to the door and my back is flat on the wall beside it. I peek around it and a shadow is standing far. I calm my staggering breath and move. I will it and switch off nerves that threaten to make me faint.

He's there. Standing in the middle of the room and I grab on my throat with the start.

His chest bare, but he's wearing his slacks. Feet bare and arms crossed over his front. His back turned towards me watching the clouds setting into a foggy night. He waits. I don't know what for.

What do I call him? All the endearing words a couple would name one another runs through my mind. All wrong. "Aro," I try and even that sounds weak. I go to him. I lift my hands and they're suspended in the air between us. I make them fists. I try again and I touch him. I slip a hand on the crook of his elbow and the other on a shoulder. "Come to bed," and I want to throw up the words, but I lay them on his back with a hesitant kiss.

I feel the string, lit with fire, going and going. Ready to end at a dynamite. Waiting for him to explode. I hold my breath.

He turns. And just like that, without a word, he lifts me from my arms and it hurts. I try not to complain, but he's rough. I know, I just know he can feel my heart wanting to leave my chest against his. He curves his arms around me, pinning my arms to my sides. He walks to the room.

I bob on his shoulder and he doesn't say a word. I turn my face to look at his profile and he's blank. No anger. This is worse, I tell myself. I don't know what he'll do.

_Shit. _I can never get a break. None. He's sleeps with one eye open and I don't get a chance.

My chin quivers and I hide it on his shoulder to stop it until he walks into the room. He flicks the lock to the door, and I want to just bite him where my lips are until he bleeds. He just sets me on the bed and pulls the robe off my shoulders. I discreetly cover myself with hands while he lifts the sheets that are messy and rights them with a flick. He lifts a corner and waits.

My muscles are barely able to move. Like rusty metal, I shuffle underneath. He tucks me in. And I can't look at him. I settle on the pillow and hide my face. He goes around and does the same. I feel the dip of the bed and he climbs in with his slacks still on. This time he doesn't stay on his side. He pulls me, my back to his chest and I'm locked in. I try not to flinch when he pulls at my shoulder and curves my legs over his. A stray hand running down my side to my thighs and back up.

He sighs in my hair, unsteady and heavy. And that's the explosion. It just wasn't yelling, but the threat was still there like a grenade with no pin.

He knew.

I try not to move, but tears leak out anyway.

_Forgive me Edward...forgive me, please. I gave him far more than hell. _

—•—•—•

Tangled in sheets, I wake with a start. Fisted hands ready to swing and hit. He watches me, standing by the window.

His white shirt is buttoned halfway up, tucked in his dress pants. Socks, shoes. The bowtie in his hand. My heart is already hammering. _What have I done? _

He runs a hand over his face that's sprinkled with gray and looking relaxed as ever. He sits on the bed facing me. My reaction automatic and moving away. His hand suspended, frozen, wanting to reach. It moves again, slowly, and lifts the sheets from my lap to cover me.

A gasp and I pull it up around his warm fingers. He let's go. "You're beautiful," he whispers. I watch him. The fog of sleep loosening. I blink. I don't say anything. Awful dreams before I woke. _No, I'm sure it was real. _

"I've never had a woman quite like you." He tilts his head. He's close and I can't breathe...or won't. His scent lingers still, strong around his neck where his hairline meets. I would know.

He continues, "But you know what always remains the same with women?" he asks with soft lashes hiding his eyes. He inhales me deeply. I lean back minutely. "They could never, ever, resist. Was it just as good for you?"

Arrogant bastard when his lips smirk.

"You don't have me. You never will," I spit.

"I already did. Many many...many times."

He grips the fist I try to let fly. He pulls it to his chest. I swallow a lump that's too wide. He's serious now. His face morphs to malice. "I know your tricks, Isabella. You dare to fool me?"

My lips part but I'm speechless. _Shit._

"I went along with the ride just to appease you," he says, unfolding the bowtie. It's swiftly around my neck. He pulls me. "And a...hell of a ride it was." I gasp against his lips when he leans in.

The bowtie around my neck tightens and tightens. My throat closing. I whimper to the tongue caressing mine. I forget the sheets. My fingers pulling at his that are tense against my neck. _God... _A tear slips.

"Do you think you'll ever escape me? Hm?" I'm climbing to my knees, struggling. He's already standing and pulls and pulls at me. "That's silly, Bella. Little girl's hopes and dreams." He nuzzles my cheek as I'm choking. The stray pillow I tried to use on him falls uselessly to the floor, sheets spill to his feet. "Mmm, try me. I won't ever let you see the light of day," he mutters and it kills me.

He let's go. I fall to the floor. I breathe and cough and heave. He turns his back to leave and I leap. "You bastard!" I scream. I land on his back. I cling. I scratch at his neck and eyes. I pound fists to his chest and face. I hate him. I hate me.

I blink and he has me pinned. Pulled at my torso from behind him. Like a rag doll. I'm panting and _why do they always have to be so much stronger? _I wish I'd grow supernatural strength to kill him with my bare Ivory or cute blades, just weak pathetic limbs, still struggling beneath him.

An angry sob leaves me when I realize the futility. His slacks and smooth shirt rough on my bare skin. I cringe.

_God, I want to die for what I've done...take me. Burn me clean._

He just watches me breaking down. Hair over my streaked face, screwed up in hate and agony. He watches. His brows tightening minutely. My wrists are free and he's winding sheets over me like a renaissance painting. I'm his creation. A mess of fear, hate and weakness, dully lit by the gloom of a rainy morning from the windows. He made me like this. Fucked up and fucked on the inside where everything is not well in me.

I'm crying over his shoulder. He pulled me into his arms at the end of the bed where he knelt. And just for a moment it's like he's apologizing. I push at him. He staggers back.

"You are evil," I whisper. "Who made you like this?" Silence envelops us as the rain finally falls. The window a kaleidoscope of music. But his eyes. For an instant they flicker to his hands. Thoughts in his mind. And I tell him over and over... "Just let me go. You don't need me anymore."

But he stands and moves to the door. I don't get a response. I won't. I see the word written all over him. He's obsessed. Money. Power. He killed every woman he had. And if this goes on, death will be my fate, too.

_Edward...move heaven or hell, wherever you are. Just come find me._

—•—•—•

"What we have left is scarcely effective, sir, it's steady and will eventually run out. We need the second key. Our attempts at making a key has been unsuccessful. But we've been on route to find a matching strand. But it's a needle in a haystack."

Aro sighs. He's not yelling. Hes not killing the old scientist. That's a first.

Aro hasn't been the same. He's tame. Calm, even. It's eerie and I don't like it. It means having me has made him like this.

My arm tenses feeling his hand again. But he's not here. He's thinking. He runs his fingertips over the veins of my wrist. I feel it in other places. I cringe, remembering.

I'm his lady in white. He picked out this dress. He doesn't hesitate anymore when he comes into my room. Prim and dressed in a work suit.

He left me with my thoughts for a day. My thoughts almost killed me. The three showers didn't clean me. He woke me with fingers through my hair and pecks to my neck. "Marie," he called me. The show began again.

I rustled the sheets more not wanting to wake. It was someone else kissing me awake until he said my middle name. Dread. Tears sprang to my eyes again.

I awoke panicked and panting. He just started to pull my shirt off and sweats to slip on this dress he layed on the bed. "Your employees are eagerly waiting for you," he said while watching me pull on the knots of my hair and applying makeup. My breathing choppy, I was afraid. His eerie filling the room with tension.

I walked into my office. The flowers were fresh on my desk, but everything else looked the same. I sat and stared at walls until Lauren came in with huge eyes, rushing towards me. A sigh with relief when she hugged me. I almost cried then, too.

She said everyone knew about the Mono. I watched her, confused as she asked if I was feeling well.

Of course he would lie to them.

I make a fist and pull my wrist away from his fingers. The feeling is too intense in other nerves I hate.

The scientist watches Aro with fear in his eyes. Sweat patching on his forehead. Aro sighs again. "Well, we'll have to find the key then, won't we?" Like he thinks nothing of it. "You're dismissed," he tells the poor old man. He scurries away as fast as he can. Other men in suits file out, too. The meeting finished.

Aro turns to me and plants a kiss on my temple. "Go have lunch, darling, make sure you eat well. You're far too thin." He skims a hand over my stomach where I stop it with a fierce grip. He's too familiar with my body now. I want to scream. I stand and leave him to go on with his day.

The hallways are just as polished, just as wide where my heels clack through hurriedly. And still, employees step away when I pass. I try to look make eye contact but they look away.

"Ms. Phoenix, the usual lunch today?" Lauren asks when I pass by. I nob with a smile.

"Make sure you get one for yourself."

Her chattering on the phone is loud. It's the delivery guy she fancies. No one else around but me, when she's like this. I stand at her desk with my elbows on the tall counter and I've missed her. A month and she still hasn't asked him out. I'll have to ask her about that over lunch; a burger and fries from the cafe I've never been to down the street. I chuckle at her when she winks. And I realize I'm grinning for the first time in a long while.

Of course, that thought makes it fade.

I turn towards my office catching a glance at a man in a black coat. He stands guard at the door and I wish it was Paul. I need to thank him for all he's done. How will I ever get the chance? I think of him and I miss him too. _How would've thought?_ _That _makes me grin. Again.

Then I hear it. I turn my head because I just heard my full name. I look at the guard and he meets my gaze, then looks away, shuffling his feet. They're not supposed to look at me, just like the employees walking down the hallways. But I heard my name. A muffled voice. I turn to the large TV-screen in the lobby. It plays news all day. Sometimes, when Aro's not around, Lauren and I watch talk shows at lunch or the never-ending soap operas. Lauren points out all the men she has on a list to sleep with. It's entertaining.

But this is something else. I'm running. I'm climbing the couch. The cushion folds with my weight. I step up on the arm that's leather and flat and I'm reaching. "Lauren!" I yell. My fingers trying to find the volume on the flat screen. No knobs or buttons anywhere.

I hear her drop the phone behind me, "Where...what's wrong?!"

"The volume! Turn it up!"

The guard is watching and he steps in behind me.

"Ma'am."

"Shhhhh! Dammit, I need to hear." I wave my hands frantically not taking my eyes away from the news anchor with a graphic frame by her head. Lauren is shuffling through her cabinets for the remote.

"I've got it!" she shouts.

I jump off the couch. My metal plated heels clacking, barely keeping me steady. The guard grabs my elbow to steady me as I swerve, almost falling into a pot of plants.

"Quick, quick, quick!" I breathe. Lauren is all fumbling hands and wide eyes. I hear people in the hallway stopping to see the commotion. Some open their office doors to look out. I hear buzzing behind me before the screen volume blasts to the hilt.

And we're all standing there. Watching. Frozen.

I see a grave. The earth spilling over. Mounds of soil is rumbled and moved to make a hole in the ground. My hand to my lips when I see a casket. White. Broken and opened to reveal nothing inside, but silk lining and dead flowers, crumbled to soil. The news anchor tells the city about a horrible discovery at a Chicago cemetery. A single grave disturbed, dug up and exposed.

My grave.

The camera shot tightens. Isabella Marie Swan is carved on the tombstone sitting tall without a scratch. But beneath it, a dark, dirty hole, revealing a lie. I focus enough to listen.

_A year ago, Lieutenant Charles Swan buried his only daughter. Isabella Marie Swan was a victim of the Red Ribbon killer. The exact details of her murder are still unknown and so are the reasons for disturbing her tomb. Why steal Isabella's remains? Who took the body? Why now?_

_Sources close to the investigation now say Isabella Marie Swan may never have been laid to rest in that white coffin. Like her grave, the case is still open. _

"Marie, what's wrong?" Lauren shakes me, but I can't feel. Only my heart pounding in my chest and _he's alive. Edward is alive._

Edward knows_ I'm_ alive.

A picture of me and my full name is listed on a huge screen for everyone to see. So they know, and Lauren gasps. I know her a thousand questions will come. They know now I'm Marie Phoenix, and that I used to be Isabella Swan.

The screen turns to the grave again and I move closer to the screen. I can see it, plain as day. His desperation in every pull of that earth and those mounds of grass that has grown over an empty grave.

I cave. My knees buckle and the news is not loud enough. The images of what my love has done is blurry through tears. Lauren is beside me. Everyone watches what i'm watching. It's real. "God..."

Phones begin to ring. I hear the ruckus of people hurrying to their desks to answer. The word has spread. The Phoenix and its leader, Nicholai Aro, are liars.

The elevator close by dings. I tear my eyes away from this screen that has told me the best news I've heard in my entire existence. Charlie is standing there. He's heaving. Looked like he ran miles to get here. He knows. The news leaked and he had no power to stop it.

I stand and he watches me, the screen and back at me again. Dread in his eyes and shoulders. Fear. Pale cheeks that are hallowing with this lie he's leading. He watches me because I know now.

I take a step and the guard stands in my way.

"He's alive isn't he?" Charlie doesn't respond, but his anger shows.

"You know he'll find me now. There's nothing you can to do to stop him. He'll kill you and anyone who stands in his way." I point to the screen and seethe, "This is how it ends."

He walks away to find Aro. People in hallways that are watching, confused, looking back at me now. They don't know that the man who used to have a part of me, my blood, has lied to me and just walked away without stitch of regret. But it's futile. Charlie stops short.

Aro stands at the far end of the lobby and his eyes are on the screen. His murderous glare shifts to Charlie.

People scatter. The large space is empty in a matter of seconds. The guard and Lauren at my side still. We watch.

"I give you one task. One, Lieutenant."

"Sir, I can explain..." Charlie pleads, but the elevator doors open. A dozen black coats charge in, armed and ready.

"Men," Aro orders.

I watch, wide eyes and feeling a tinge of panic. My heart pounds when they grab Charlie and drag him away. Shiny shoes shuffling this way or that, no grip onshiny floors. He's boneless. My lids fold and I can't watch. I won't. Not even if the pull inside me that still calls out for the father I once knew feels remorse for him.

Fate is solid, written on stone. Even when you don't see it at the end of the dark tunnel you're crawling through on hands and knees, bleeding, dying, reaching for a particle of hope, fate is present.

Edward will find me.

—•—•—•

**A/N ****EDIT: Please read my twitter page if you're pissed. /#!/MujerN I understand you.**

**This chap was dedicated to my Beta-B-Smurfette because she's obsessed with pleats. She pulls my arm and makes me like it. And I did. A lot. I like stories with bad news, then good news. It keeps me worried.**

**So let's hear it. I can take it. *winces***


	28. Chapter 27: Anger

**A/N 3 months, I know, but there was a lot of shit I was going through, you wouldn't believe. And I really wanted to make this good. So much so its more than 13k words. **

**This is not beta'd****. I never do this but here we go. If anything changes, i'll let you know on next chap so you can go back and read. I like to make it right and Beta is the brilliant one who enlightens me. **

**Have fun. And thanks for sticking around for so long. This is def not an ordinary fic or an ordinary author. I need to let it percolate. **

**Thanks to my girls. ILY.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — wish it would fit better.**

—•—•—•

_**Sound: John hopskins - campfire**_

—•—•—•

**Chapter 27 - Anger**

Anger is the strongest emotion for humans. It is negative with violence, threatening to take a life or harm. But it has a positive. Anger can make you do things you've never done before. It moves you and gives you super natural strength. It drives you to act, fight back or dig up six feet of earth to find truth in a tomb. That kind of anger is extraordinary, revolutionary.

But this negative in the anger I witness is vicious, unforgiving, like the anger in Aro's eyes. I wish I never witnessed this anger. I could live without this anger. The world would be happy without it. My life would be free without it. I wouldn't be here, standing on rocks, shining in the glow of the night with billowing winds that chill me to the core. I wouldn't be taken from sleep to see this. Lieutenant Charles Swan is beaten, completely unrecognizable to my blurred eyes, begging to keep his life. He's right at the brink of losing it over a cliff as high as a waterfall.

Aro wants me to stop this. To react. To care. He wants my full attention, full submission. He wants from me a robotic, emotionless supplier to his every need. Things have changed. His game is crumbling. He's desperate.

Danger in Aro's eyes and hands, waiting, gripping the collar of Charlie's blood soaked shirt. I knew that shirt once. It was bright white, not a stitch of stains or wrinkles. It's torn around his chest now. The rain falling, freezing us all.

_What should I do?_ I stand and wait for the answer to come to me as he watches me, big eyes with fright and hope.

I ball my fists around a sweater. The rain pours and its the sky weeping for this sin about to occur. I can't hold the shivers of ice cold and strands of hair sticking to my face.

Everyone seems to wait. And still, I don't know what to do.

––––––––––––•–––•– **One week ago –•––•–––––––––––––––**

Charlie was dragged away through the lobby and just as quickly Aro was in front of me. Lauren stepped to the side and so did the guard. Everyone who was brave enough to stay watching, waited. Aro didn't say a word but I saw. The fear. His chest moving, excelling with doubt. He looked up at the monitor and the news blared on. All out of his control.

He wrapped his palm around my arm and pulled. "This doesn't change a thing." His lips grazed my cheek and he was hurting me. "No one will lay eyes on you again. Not a soul," he promised. And he sent me away.

I didn't say a word. I didn't need to. I knew everything did change. My hope changed from just wanting freedom to wanting to be freed. And _he_ will free me from this.

I was dragged to my penthouse. Men in black coats around me took wide strides towards a black SUV. Lauren left behind with eyes full and glimmering with fright. I mostly worried for her. I will never see her again.

Just when I thought I was fortunate to see the light of day I'm imprisoned again. The pit in me deepening with thoughts and the smell of the enemy still lingering in my bed. I didn't fight when the SUV drove off to this waiting room. My room.

I stripped off my dress and the sheets that were rustled still. Everything. All the feeling of Aro and his hands. I pushed the fabric in woven baskets for the laundry. I wished I could burn them. To erase the stupidity I had done to myself.

Edward is alive.

Edward. My Edward. _Forgive me._

How am I sure he wasn't running, ripping, killing, moving the ground to see my decrepit form, decaying, to know..._to know..._that I wasn't really there, all while I gave in. Did this. Just to try and be free. Futile try. All for nothing. I wanted to rip my skin off muscle and bone. To relieve myself from the anger of regret. _God, if only._ If only I'd waited one more day. I hate me.

I lifted the unused pillow that never suffocated the breath out of Nicholai Aro's lungs. The cover for that in the laundry too. I ripped it off to not rip off skin or eyes that are watery with sadness. Drops on the backs of my hands as I pushed at dirty fabric into the mound of laundry.

I cried and I deserved agony.

_Edward is alive and he's coming to find me. To take me back_. I pushed a laugh. How many days did I long for this? How many? Hundreds.

He's coming.

And then I was relieved. So relieved. Sobs of joy and palms pressed to my lips. I rubbed at streaked make-up I saw on my cheeks through the mirror, and I couldn't believe it. _He knows I'm alive._ I laughed then.

I wanted him so badly. What is he doing now? A sigh thinking how torn he must've been for this long. How did he react at knowing? About me gone. I stared at the windows and yearned to know. I wanted to know how much he'd changed.

That was Monday, it's Thursday now and my heart is full. A sponge of hope, soaked, dripping with happiness. If it were squeezed, it would make a bucket full.

The terrace is open and my robe is silk and feels nice on my washed skin. I grip the mug closely with it's own new warm foam floating inside. I sip. My foot lazily swings on rhythm with the breeze. I ate. Plates and pans still sitting in the sink. Full belly, full heart they say. I'm beginning to think it's true.

It's only a matter of time. This waiting room with white carpets and curtains that move in tune with the breeze are comfort. A vacation until I go back home to inked arms and a shoulder I can lean on.

I make a prayer and send it away above that cloud sneaking by slowly if I watch close enough. _God, keep him safe. _I know he'll make damage.

Everything is still. Too still.

I've been here for days and nothing. I think on this as I put clothes on. I feel it. Something will happen soon. The boots are on my feet and comfortable clothes on my back. Something will move. _I know it._

I turn on the laptop to watch the news clip again and again. I've replayed it in loops for hours yesterday and the day before that. I can almost see the imprints of his boots, pixeled on the screen. The ground made into a mountain. I replay when it's over. I love his strength. His everything.

A news feed trickles from a column by the streaming video. My gaze shifts to that and bold letters appear, 'The Rotten Berry'. I click on it and the article loads. My heart stops.

I stand and pull on the cord I need to attach to the laptop. It's tangled and I grunt to push at the couch wedging it to the carpet. It gives and with fumbling hands I plug it. The wide theater room monitor flickers on and I see the article bigger...and an image of Corporal Whitlock.

His dog tags hang from his neck, over his green fatigues. His face scratched and scarred over his cheek and neck. His shaven head is tight to his perfectly shaped skull. He looks into the camera with a hard glare.

The military head shot is captioned as being taken from a file off Navy Seal documents. I skim through the article's words with quickness like quenching a thirst. I'm frozen.

"Shit." It's everywhere. I click on a video and it plays loudly. I remember it. That day in Aro's office when they showed experiments on humans. Surveillance of Corporal Whitlock raging in a steam room, trapped, enveloped in poisonous gas. It has gone viral.

I pop in a new window and type in 'Rotten Berry' on a search engine. Thousands of results come up. CNN covers a whole story on the ramifications of a new medical experiment gone wrong.

My heart speeds and I don't know if I'm hopeful or perplexed. _What's happening?_

I pull up live news from the local station and a reporter speaks. The lab behind him with chained gates. I don't recognize it but he describes it as a lab in Phoenix inc, discovered. A human torture facility.

I open my email and type a message furiously and link the article. '_Who leaked this? What's happening out there? Please, reply.'_ I click send. Paul never answered my emails but I'll try again. I'm desparate. _'Dammit, Paul! Answer.'_

The speakers bling with a new message. My heart skips its rhythmic pattern.

"_Guess who?"_ is all he replies.

I stare at the message. _'Whitlock?' _I click send.

"_Carlisle Cullen."_

"Shit, _shit..." _I gasp. The leaked video of Corporal Whitlock ends and another begins. Coverage of riots and protests of citizens running the streets and picketing at night and day infront of Phoenix inc. The people are angry at Nicholai Aro.

The video pans to another surveillance of men being carried out from the facility in stretchers. Police and ambulance barging in and out at night with more victims in tow in orange overalls, all in different states of consciousness.

The scenes are similar to the leaked video of men running out of their torture cells. My fear playing through as proof in this blurry video. Aro never stopped.

I'm livid.

I begin to type more questions to Paul but the doors outside of the room bang open. I run to the living room. Aro is standing there looking all places. He spots me and his shoulders visibly drop. Not a word and he charges pass me to my room.

"You bastard!" I yell at him. I follow. "Still, you use humans after I told you...never again!" He doesn't answer and pulls on the closet doors. He steps in and frantically looks around. He bends and pulls a gold trimmed leather duffle bag and slams it on the island of cabinets.

"Pack your things," he points.

"Everyone knows your lies. How does it feel, Aro?" I taunt.

"Do as I say!"

I grin. "The money. The power. Gone. It's just your pathetic greed left."

His teeth show with a snarl. I see him charge before I feel the bang. My cheek splits. I feel it at the back of my skull. My knees buckle and _fuck! _

"You hit me?" I stand just as quickly and slam fists on his chest and face. He staggers back with a fist to his eye. I rage. He catches my wrist and pulls. Too strong but I see red. I free my hand and grab anything to throw at him. A leather belt twines around my fingers and I whip it at his neck. A welt of red appears. "Go ahead! Hit me! You'll be dead by night!"

He doesn't say a word as he grabs the belt on my second swing and snatches it away, burning my palm. "Guards!"

I'm thrashing. Legs bent and arms flying. Guards grab me and pull me out of the closet. I'm screaming because I regret. He whips the leather again and again on my thighs, my back as I pull away. He doesn't stop.

The only thing I can hear is the cutting of air and my screams every time he connects with another limb. So much. I grow quiet. Whimpers is all I can manage.

The guards hands loosen around me. One dares to step in. Hesitant. "Sir," he pleads from above me. But Aro is gone. _And fuck him. _For every welt he makes, a bullet to his chest. I begin to count aloud because I'll remember these. I'll never forget.

I take a loud gasp of air at a whip to my chest. He stops. A black coat has him pinned to the wall. He's panting with a vicious glare. I writhe in pain on the carpet. I try to push myself to my knees and fall again. Red stains the tendrils, trickling in my shirt.

With all my strength I push again. I stand. I heave facing him. I try not to fall again. "Forty one," I mutter, dizzy. I stagger out of the room. I want my laptop.

I hear footsteps and he's behind me. "Come, Marie. We must go. I'll buy you clothes, anything," he's kind now. I want to gouge his eyes out. I ignore him and pull on cables and close the lid of the computer. I lift it into my arms that ache.

Outside Aro waits, watching me. "Go!" he orders the guards. The sound ricocheting through the walls. They file out of the penthouse.

I walk out of the room right pass him and head for the door. He follows. His fingers skim my elbow and he latches on. Now he's leading me to the elevator.

And off we go to wherever he decides to hide. But I'm not worried. This is temporary. I know this as I watch the earth below from the plane window and the moving waterfalls of Canada.

—•––•–•

The church that was falling to pieces is still there. The wings around it are occupied still. What little is left of the Army lives in the compound. They all hide. Like cowards.

Guards pushed me out of the tarmac and into a vehicle. Dark windows and I couldn't see where we were going. But i'm here in a room with dark furniture, rich red carpets and curtains. The brown leather couches are smooth in contrast with the stoned walls.

Aro walks into this office large enough to hold half an army. He has property in all places. But who cares? No matter where he goes, I have to be with him. This time I'm not in a room on my own. This time he watches me himself.

He leaves me to these surroundings in the middle of the room and walks across to open another set of double doors. A bedroom. The lights automatically switch on and darkness is enveloped. A bed with royal blues and gold ropes canopy the headboard of a massive oak bed. Seatings in nooks and books along the wall adjacent to the tall windows he pulls open to accept the breeze.

I crane my neck but I don't step in. He stands silent looking out. His head moves slightly towards the door. He sighs, or huffs. In a few strides he's in front of me and pulls me inside. I tense. The welts, red and angry. It hurts when I walk, stretch my back. My chest stings. I have no clothing to change into with all the streaks of red staining here or there. My collarbone feels raw with the last strike.

He doesn't look into my eyes but pulls at my shirt there. With care. Then he's determined and pulling on my laptop and my jacket. I jerk away when his fingers find the hem of the shirt. "Keep still," he orders in baritone. My hands are shaking with the pain. But it doesn't cease the fire in my eyes watching him.

I hiss when he pulls. I stand in my bra and his eyes trip on every bruise and scratch. His brows twist. "You'll forgive me," he nods. I think he speaks to himself. He walks behind me and his hands hover but never touch. He sighs.

I bite on my chapped lip when I feel his sweeping lips over my skin. Neck, shoulder. He's buried in my hair.

I dig nails on his hands by my hips when he begins to slip my pants down my legs. "You're tired. Let me," he whispers. My ear is heat with his mouth too close. He tugs, and not with permission.

"Stay." He walks away into another door where the bathroom lives. A mirror adorning the night stand is angled perfectly to my height. And I see everything. A perplexed sigh leaves me and hate this life. A turn of my wrist and an arm and I just see red and blue in sharp lines.

I gasp. The cloth he presses to my back is hot but soothing. He cleans up every drop and scraped skin. My breathing is off. The cool room touches my skin, but it stings more. He finishes.

His shirt rustles and I look at the reflection of his fingers undoing every button and cuffs. Aro takes the shirt off his back to drape it over mine, buttoning his burden as his fingers move to the collar. A tug. He leads me to the bed.

"Marie" he murmurs. He's laying on his side facing me. His face dips into my neck. His arms around me. Hours have passed and its well into the night where he slept and awoke again to pull me closer. I never let my eyes stick. No sleep with this beast nuzzling close with greedy palms under this shirt. I'm a crobar of stiffness under tangled legs and his chest.

Confessions spill when you're in the dark. The clip of a grenade is pulled. Never in my dreams did I anticipate this would rain down on me when he speaks.

"I remember your little legs running around," he murmurs like in a dream. His eyes closed, "Always finding trouble at the lab. Even then I knew I loved you." His lids flutter and he looks at me. "You'd crawl up to my lap and your mother would chastise you, pull you away but I held you close. I remember thinking why I never had a daughter with eyes like yours. I wanted one. I wanted you. I wanted you and your mother for myself."

And the bomb explodes taking all my senses. I'm frozen. My limbs still as he pulls on my shoulder closer, chest to chest. _What is he saying? _

"You knew my mother?"

"I knew you before you knew me, Marie. I always knew you. Everyone. We were all friends. Renee, Carlisle, his wife Esme...your father."

I pull away to sit up. My heart wanting to leave my chest. "Shhh," he soothes, pulling on me again. He tucks my head into the crook of his neck. "It's alright. It worked out. The animosity between us was all worth it. You're mine now."

I can't speak.

He chuckles lowly with memory. I can feel the rumble in his chest. "We studied together, worked together, even spent holidays together. We were young. We were a family. The scientists and Charlie. Renee met him when she was younger," he says this with a bittered tone. "Then they had you."

_He knew my mother...and he loved her. _I swallow a thickness. _God, what is this? _

"But I won the best piece of her. And you remind me so much of her. I couldn't help it, Marie, I fell for you too. You're beautiful. I waited impatiently until you'd give in to me. It's why I need you so much. Don't you understand?" he asks desperately.

My head begins to shake, _No. _I try to pull myself up. _Oh God... _

I struggle but nothing. He easily slips between me and pins me to my pillow. My knuckles white, pushing at his bare chest. He whispers his desperation through the thick of darkness in this massive room, into these sheets. He continues to kill me with words.

"Carlisle wants it all. He wants the power, the keys. They all did. They didn't want me to have anything to do with the stem. They made an alliance against me. Burying the key out of my reach. Don't you see? They despised me. It's why Carlisle is bent on ruining my name. It's why you have to help me."

"Get off me."

"People will listen to you. They'll trust the daughter of Renee to make it better. I need you, Marie, I need you."

I cry. Drops down my temples and into his arms. The enemy. My hands not strong enough to pull him away. He's stuck to me. His face bowing into my chest. One heaving push and he let's go. I slip off from under him and tumble off the bed. Tears running and so do my legs.

My fists bang on the doors when I find them locked. "You sick, sick man!" I yell. My fingers find my hair and my knees the floor. The walls too wide, the ceilings too tall, they swallow my cries for hours until I grow silent.

I try to remember him when I was a little girl but I don't. I barely remember my own mother those days in her prime. She was beautiful. Just hands and hair flutter through my mind. And like a bullet to my heart, I realize...

"You killed her."

Aro doesn't move from his place at the edge of the bed. His elbows leaning on his knees. "You couldn't have her or her ideas...so you took her...her life," I nod, understanding. "You hated him but you spared Charlie for your benefit, bribed him with money, didn't you? How did you convince him? Tell me!" I'm so angry it doesn't begin to describe how I feel.

I remember Renee's video. Carlisle in the background telling her to hurry. They were burning files. Someone was after them. It's why they hid the key in me. Last place he'd look.

His answer in a slight incline of his head. His ice blue gaze shifts from the floor to me. And I know.

Books are flying off shelves and at his head. I scream...I scream...I scream. A shard of glass breaks off a lantern when it falls off a table. I grab it, over my head. I stand.

"Marie!" he howls in warning. His stance guarded. Hands lifted towards me. I heave...I heave...I heave. Rage is palpable in my veins.

"_It's not my name!"_ I charge at him. His fists stop my wrist but not in time. A slash across his chest. He looks down at blood seeping out. It doesn't stop him. His teeth are white in a snarl. He twists my arm and my back is pulled to his front.

"This will end like this, darling, you disobey me and I'll kill you like your mother on that table under knives and ropes. Is that understood?"

"Ahhhhh!" I melt to buckled knees. I feel his fingers pull the glass out of my hand. Guards are at the door, but never move. He lifts me and throws me on the bed. He walks away, closing the doors with a loud bang. Leaving my screams in his wake.

_Never. I will never give in._

—•––•––••–•

The course in which things began to crumble for Phoenix inc was devastatingly rapid. Everyone knew about the Rotten Berry. It's what they called it now. It angers me. I didn't want this. Renee would be turning over in her grave if she knew what she discovered and spent her career protecting is stained with disdain.

There is nothing else to do in this chamber but watch videos of the outside world moving, doing, fighting back with anger that saves and changes the bad to good. People care. People want to be safe and healthy. Aro is besmirching that. But they are set to not let him.

A war of corporations wanting to keep the Berry and use it to save lives are fighting to keep it, yet stop the torture. Some want the Berry to be destroyed and never used again. There is no compromise.

They don't know there will be nothing of the berry left without the second key.

Since that night of confessions, I haven't seen Aro. I don't think I can. I swear I'll kill him with my bare hands. But I want to know more. The whole story. Never in the year I've been stuck here have I wanted so badly to talk to Charlie. He knows what happened. But for all I know he's probably dead now. Both my parents, killed at the hand of Nicholai Aro.

To know what he has said changes everything. I understand his fixation on keeping me close. But he's desperate. Nothing is working in his favor.

New clothes arrived. Every possible brand on those labels. Carts were dragged in and pulled into the bathroom with a walk in closet. I stared at the door wanting to bolt. But guards were standing there too.

The middle aged woman looked at me once and I saw fear in her eyes. She did her job and left. She remind me of Sue. I miss her.

I spent a full day in Aro's shirt. As punishment, I know. But I don't care. I sit now cross legged under a blanket on the window ledge. My laptop in hand. My blotchy face and hair in disarray. But I know of the outside world through satellite. I have this at least.

I start at a bing through the speakers. A new message. I click and it's Paul. _"Are you safe?"_ he asks. I push a short laugh.

"_Since when?_" I answer back.

"_Touché. Seriously, he's pissed. What did you do to him?"_

"_The other way around, Paul. What hasn't he done to me?"_

He's silent for a while.

"_Are you here?"_ I ask.

"_Yes."_

And for some reason this calms me some. I want to tell him all I've learned. But I don't. I stare out the window knowing he won't speak again. It's unsafe. But I hear a second bing. I go to click it but It isn't him.

"_He will ask of you many things. Do as he says." _The message ends. My heart speeds. I stare at the screen.

"_Who's this?" _But there's no response. I click on the info to check the IP address and location. Nothing. The message is blocked. Suddenly my screen goes black. My fingers midair. For a long while it's like this. I grow worried.

I check the plug and everything is correct. Nothing out of place. I'm frozen when the screen turns to a blurry image.

I'm stunned to silence.

A surveillance of me, a year ago, lying in my bed at the lab. I'm watching the crystals I hung from the window dance with the reflected sun over the ceiling. I'm alone.

The screen goes black. It brightens again. An image of earth this time. The atmosphere a blue glow. The image moves closer. And closer still. The Pacific ocean is blue. Ships sail in the distance. The image blurs and zooms closer to land. Over United States: Florida, Tennessee, then Illinois. It slows. The movement dizzying but I never blink.

The image hovers over cities and buildings. Hills of Canada appear like I saw through the window of the airplane. It never stops moving until I see the church. Closer still and my lips part. I look up. My eyes towards the clouds and the sky. I see myself, sitting on the window ledge on the screen. Live feed of my head moving from the window back to the reflected image of me.

Whoever it is, can see me.

The screen goes black. My heart pounds in my chest. The screen flickers to my regular desktop and everything is back to normal again. The message front and centered.

_...Do as he says._

The double doors open. I slap the laptop closed, looking up. Aro stands at the doorway. I push the computer behind me. It's that feeling when you're being watched. My nerves fired up. I stand.

He's watching me carefully. His suit pristine and fitted to his muscled chest. I look, wondering if the cut was deep enough. I'd do it again if I had the chance. He walks towards me and grabs my hand. I look back at the window, towards the sky. I turn to watch the back of his head. He takes me the bathroom. I stand there, wondering what he'll do next.

He turns the shower on and steam fills the room. I try to fight him when he reaches to take his shirt off me but he grips my chin roughly. I wince.

_...Do as he says. _

But it can't be this. I stand still and he pulls on the shirt and my bra next. My breathing shallow when his thumbs hook on my underwear. I ball my fists. I step out of them. And where he kneels he presses his lips under my navel. I bite my lip.

The door to the bathroom is still ajar. I look out where I can still see the window. _Oh God... _I slam the door shut where I can reach it. He doesn't notice. He's busy making his way up my torso to my breasts. I push him away. My feet falter but I reach the shower and pull on the glass door to close it behind me.

I envelop myself under the hot stream. He stands there and just watches me.

"You will get dressed and join me this afternoon. We have much planned. A meeting with the press after a lunch with buyers from Japan. You will be proper and cordial. Clear?"

I nod. My shaking hands reaching for a bottle of shampoo. I inwardly beg for him to leave me, but he just stands there. I soap up my hair and rub it in.

"Leave." I order. I can't take the silence.

To my relief, he leaves and slams the door. With lightning speed, I shower. I walk into the closet in a towel and pull of the first dress I see. I don't want him to come in again.

I dry my hair and apply makeup from a vanity. My hands shaking all the while. The green dress reminds me of _his _eyes and I stare through the mirror for a while.

_Could he be watching from the window? _I cringe at the thought.

I step out into the room and Aro is waiting in his office. He doesn't say a word but grabs my hand and we head out. I just peek at the windows. My new hope and obsession.

The lunch is bountiful. Food of every kind. Young asian men in dark suits, handsome. Their guards inconspicuous around the room. One, in a tailored suit, flanks the master with the name of Toshiro. His eyes intense and expression unconvinced. He waits for Aro to humor him. He looks at his watch under sleek leather gloves. He doesn't eat or drink anything.

I sit beside Aro and he talks about anything but the obvious. Weather, business...never the Berry or the media fuming. I take a sip of my wine and I'm not hungry anymore. Appetite is gone now. So much for that. I look around at the decorated restaurant. Everyone is oblivious, and if they weren't they wouldn't know Aro was in the same room, dining alongside them.

I look back at my plate and feel all eyes on me. I look up. _Shit, I missed the question. _Aro's nostrils flare. Toshiro is looking at me. "Pardon me. What was the question?" I straighten my spine and try to smile.

Toshiro looks at Aro. "Seems your lady is bored. My company must be uninteresting." he says with an accent. Aro laughs. It sounds off. He's deathly nervous. He reaches for my knee under the table and squeezes. Hard. I bite my lip.

"Nonsense. She's had a long night. She barely had sleep," Aro winks. Toshiro's only new expression is a smirk. Just as quickly it goes away.

"She's my advocate for selling and organizing distribution of the antidote. She could sell nuclear warheads to a third world country. She's brilliant."

"Then I must converse with her over dinner to learn her skills. Maybe she can show me if I'm fortunate enough." My spine crystallizes at Toshiro's words.

"Of course," Aro replies, "I'll have the meeting arranged at your prefered location." I snap my gaze towards Aro. I stand. The chair drags over the marble floor and everyone looks. Toshiro straightens in his chair. His smirk back in place. The sound of cocking metal is slight by loud and clear. I look up at the guard standing by him.

I feel Aro's fingers around the back of my thigh under the table tightening. "Ex...cuse me," I stutter, "Ladies Room." I shake off Aro's hand. Black coats quickly escort me.

Toshiro leaves us without a second glance when I arrive back, but not before he grabs my hands and kisses them.

"I will not be your fucking prostitute," I spit when Aro pulls me out of the restaurant. Without warning, he slaps me. It sends me reeling. Black coats cut their eyes at the commotion. But they look away just as quickly. The car door opens and Aro shoves me in without a word. I crawl in dizzy. The squeals of the wheels jostles me. We leave with a quickness.

He's silent the whole way. I know he's angry at my outburst. But I could give two fucks. I will not have dinner with that man if it costs me my life.

_...Do as he says. _Fuck that. I will not.

If I thought this lunch was torturous. I would never have expected what came next.

The SUV pulls into an alley. Reporters swarm the premises. They spot us and run towards the back doors to a building. Aro grabs my waist and I'm pulled through a gap of frenzied reporters behind flashes of cameras.

I would be on the other side of this scenario if I was still myself. Everything has changed. My instinct is to look over the crowd and find a familiar face I used to work with. My heart hurts to think of it.

We barge into corridors. People with ID and name tags welcome Aro. They stand to the side and let us pass. We are led through double doors and brightness envelops us. A glamorous hotel lobby welcomes us.

Lobbyists stand around and quickly jump to action and begin to ask questions all at once. Small recorders and cameras in their hands. Aro pulls me and they are ignored just the same.

My stomach plummets when we enter a hall. I understand now. A crowd of people sitting, waiting for a press conference to begin, all facing a podium at the front of the large room.

I look up at Aro and he glances at me. His expression in warning, a threat to not act up or embarrass him.

This was his plan. Defend his honor in a courtroom or he'll only see the interior of a prison cell for the rest of his life.

We stand to the side and the host introduces Aro to the crowd. No one makes a sound but rustled paper full of questions.

Aro speaks, "This isn't a plea to believe or trust the true mission of phoenix inc. This isn't a response to all the negativity pinned to my stem research. This is to clarify false accusations towards me and my company.

"The truth is Dr. Carlisle Cullen made this personal. His strategy to besmirch the worth of the Berry through the media _will_ prove it wrong. My employees and I will make sure of that."

"Sir," a reporter in tweed speaks up. He adjusts his glasses after waving a hand to get his attention. "That sounds very much like you're threatening Dr. Carlisle Cullen."

"Take it whichever way you've received it. I will defend Phoenix inc. as an innovative company that wants to save lives."

The crowd erupts. They speak over one another. The host lifts a hand and some settle down. He points at another who tried to speak first. An ethnic woman with freckles on her face and a stern expression. "A torture facility was just discovered on Phoenix inc. property. How are we so sure there aren't more being accounted for?"

_"How is this saving lives?"_ Another shouts from the back. This sends the room into a fit, fighting to speak.

Aro is grinding his teeth. He grips the corners of the protium and glares at everyone until they quiet down.

"I am not responsible for government owned soldiers found in that facility. Nor do I have the power to use government property. It would benefit you to see what is obvious, Dr. Carlisle Cullen planned and planted the scapegoat on Phoenix inc."

_"Why would he take the effort of planting such a large operation for the sake of a lie?"_

_"Where's the proof?" _

_"Is Lieutenant Charles Swan providing you with the resources?"_

My eyes cut to every corner of the room as questions pour out over Aro like a mountain of justice. I can't hold back the smug feeling. _Let him rot in hell. _

But my stomach plummets at his words, "There's a simple explanation for all this. Dr. Carlisle Cullen wants what I have discovered with hard work and years of construction."

My lips part. My blood runs cold. _Of course he'd take the glory away from my mother. _

"My team of highly qualified scientist have been finding gaps in our research. Dr. Cullen has hidden the keys to unlock the inconsistencies. He has been tampering with _my _research for years. He is the blame! He is the manipulator! I will not stand for his behavior. I will do anything to stop him!"

My feet in these heels itch to run. To stomp on his words and choke him with his lies. I look out at the heated crowd. They all look like I feel.

Suddenly a black coat grabs my elbow and I'm being pushed into the line of sight. Aro's hand is reaching for me. When I'm close enough his grip is hard around my waist, though my upper body pivots away from his embrace. The crowd quiets significantly. I'm a deer in headlights. Live to the world through cameras. Every eye can see me, standing firmly at Nicholai Aro's side.

I hate it.

My heart pounds in my ears. But this is my chance to fix things. For Renee. I look up at Aro and he's speaking. I spring to life and focus.

"...she was a victim. Isabella Marie Swan had to lie about her death. She had to change her name and her identity to keep away from Dr. Cullen. I saved her life. And I saved the key from destroying her." He looks down at me. I blink as the crowd furiously ask more questions.

_"Why do you stand by a criminal?"_

_"When did you find out the key was implanted in you?"_

_"Ms. Swan, Is this true?"_

My hands begin to shake. I watch as everyone grows angry, curious, skeptical of me.

I plant a hand on Aro's chest and push him away. He steps back and I'm standing behind the protium. He watches me. His eyes a vicious glare. Telling me, yelling not fuck up or I'll pay.

"It's...true," I murmur. I look at the crowd and most grow a sour expression. I straighten my spine and look at the cameras pointing at me. And like a pang to my chest I feel it...my love is watching.

_Give them hell. _And I will. "For you," I whisper.

"A burden was implanted in me at a very young age. I never knew until...it was too late," I say glancing at Aro. "Dr. Cullen probably thought it was best to keep the secret safe but he was wrong. It ruined my life. Just as it ruined so many other lives."

Aro takes a step back. He can't hide a grin, at ease with my words. I look away and stare at all the faces.

"I've witnessed, seen with my own eyes the harm it has caused. The damaged soldiers, one dying on a bed, marks all over his body, saved from being tortured to death. I saw Corporal Whitlock myself, his despair and hurt.

"And...I remember another soldier once. I will forever remember him." I look into the camera, one by one. _Are you watching? _I breathe, holding back the pins behind my lids. "His scars. His valor and strength, never weakened, even after going through hell and back. To find me. To keep me from going through...what he went through. He was the infamous killer to the city of Chicago, but a hero to me. The Red Ribbon killer saved _my _life." I look over at Aro. He's looking at the crowd as they begin to murmur.

I'm strengthened. I speak before I lose my chance, "Aro was right about one thing. I was vulnerable to all of this. The key. The stem. I was naive...ignorant. I should've fought harder. I should've told the world that I had a secret that could save lives...or destroy them if fallen in the wrong hands." Aro tenses. He takes a step and I grip the podium and rush to speak.

"My mother knew this. She was the one who discovered The Berry. She was the one who wanted to keep it safe. She pleaded Dr. Cullen to hide it before she was murdered!"

I'm pushed. Aro grabs my elbow and I'm tossed to the side. I fall against black coats as they fumble to catch me. He stands there, seething. Red. His chest heaving under his suit. Never have I seen him so angry. _I will die today._

The crowd erupts again but the host tries to bring order. Chaos everywhere when guards begin to pull me out of the room. I crane my neck when Aro's team of lawyers I've never seen barge in. They surround him and talk furiously. A few move to the podium where the host helplessly stands. It's over. No more questions will be answered. I've done enough damage to make them work hard to right things.

My last glimpse before the doors close is Aro, death behind his blue eyes.

––––•––––•––––•

"Get up." I'm woken from my restless sleep. My eyes snap open. I'm in the room and Aro is over me. "Up," he orders. His sleeves are rolled up. He's sweat glistened. His hair and clothes damp. My heart pounds. _Oh God...what now?_

I haven't seen him all day after I was dragged into this room by guards. Locked. I fell asleep after hours of crying.

Lightning strikes and the room fills with light. I look out the window. My saving grace. _But why haven't they come for me? _I look up at his face and I know...I will die tonight.

His palm grips my nape roughly and he pushes me out of the room and down stone corridors. There are black coats everywhere. They stand around, some smoking, others talking. They stand in attention when they see Aro. They move out of our way. And just beyond the corner of the room I spot Paul. He takes a step when he sees me. His jaw flexes when he sees Aro pulling me along. He can't do anything.

Rain pours over us. I have no shoes and its freezing. I'm crawling inside a car again. The trip is short and he yanks me out. My arm goes to cover my face. Heavy mist travels up from the giant waterfall below to my heavy lids. I stumble. And then I see Charlie.

He's on his knees, arms bloodied and bond to his back. He sees me and he thrashes, but his mouth is covered. Anger shows in his one eye that isn't bulging and shut. He grunts and growls at Aro.

"Charlie here wanted to prove that if you cease to disobey he'll be the martyr," Aro explains calmly. "It's simple, Marie, lose both your parents or do as I say. Isn't that correct, Lieutenant?"

Charlie stops moving and his face crumbles. A sob so loud it travels to my ears even with the cacophony of rushing water. He watches me, hoping our eyes connect but I can't look at him.

I remember I wanted to kill him once.

So much hate for this man who loved my mother once. But then the love faded. What made him abandon my her and find refuge in Aro?

The urge to talk to him floods me. I want the truth about everything. I want to know where it all went wrong for him. _Why...why...why, Charlie?_

My gaze flickers to his and he watches, throat bobbing, brows collapsed and hoping. Hoping I'd see something. But what is it? He hurt me. Sold me for money.

"Is this a threat?" I say. "He's nothing of mine. He disowned me."

Aro's nostrils flare at my nonchalant response. He looks at Charlie and then at me. Charlie wails, melting limply onto the ground. He shakes his head. All hope gone.

"Fine," Aro spits, waving a hand. "Off with him then. Get him out of my sight!" Black coats move swiftly at his order. Charlie's shoulders sag.

They lift him. Each limb in a fist. The roaring waterfall inches away. His head dips. They pull back. My heart stops.

"I'm wasn't finished!"

Everyone stops. Aro looks at me from over his shoulder. "Then finish." He smirks.

"You forget, Aro. I was promised to kill him myself."

He blinks.

"This isn't yours to finish. It's mine!" A bang against my chest. He doesn't respond. Charlie lifts his head weakly and stares at me. Everyone waits.

I point at a tall dark haired guard, "Let him go!" The guard looks from me to Aro. He drops Charlie's legs.

"You owe me, you son of a bitch! Give me my guns and I'll do it myself!"

Aro is seething. He looks down at my pointed finger jabbing at his chest. I step away. I walk back to the SUV and turn. "I'll do what you say," I wave a hand, "I'll do whatever the fuck you want! But if he's dead by morning I will ruin you, Nicholai Aro! I will watch you through eyes that guard you at night and I will come for you. I'll tell the whole world how I sliced your throat in your sleep!" I step in and slam the car door shut.

I heave...I heave...I heave. My heart in my throat. _And what have I done? _My chance for revenge and I saved Charlie?

"Drive. Go!" I shout at the chauffeur. I don't want to even look out the window or I'll throw him over myself.

..._Do what he says. _

"Fuck," I whisper. Aro reaches the car and yanks the door open. He jumps in and the chauffeur drives now. I roll my eyes.

I will not look at him and he watches me the whole way back to the compound.

Once we're out he's even rougher when he pulls me. I try to right my feet as I find my footing, scraped heels on gravel. Black coats move out of our way again, watching Aro pulling me by my hair and neck.

"Which one of them is it?" He asks. He stops in the middle of a dark foyer where guards surround us. "Who's the mole among us?"

I don't respond. I wince when he pulls again. "Who dares step forward and tell me to my face that this bitch is who you follow?"

Some guards take a step back. Some form fists at their sides but stay still. I know they would come. I see it in their faces that they'd take a step if Aro takes this further.

My heart soars. I see the compassion. I see every one of them watching as their shoulders bulge, their expressions murderous. Anger at Nicholai Aro.

I see Paul and he's vibrating with adrenaline. I watch him... I watch him... I watch him. _Don't do it, Paul. Keep still. _I faintly shake my head.

Aro let's me go and I breathe. But not long enough before he's pulling a glock out of a guard's belt. Aro points it under his chin. "Is it him? Is he your mole, Ms. Phoenix?"

I watch, terrified for the young man with brown eyes. He's shorter and thinner than most. Just a child.

I don't move. I will not show an ounce of regret. The young man breathes and it echos. He tries to keep still. His brows catching beads of sweat. He's angry, but one thing he isn't is scared. There is anger for Nicholai Aro everywhere_._

"Come forward and show me who tries to fuck with me!" Aro shouts. He looks around.

Nothing.

Aro cocks the gun. And I do...I do...I do regret. I hold my breath and _shit. _He will kill him. My stupid mouth.

"Show your face!" he yells. I start.

I can't take it. I begin to move. To tell him that he can take me instead. To do as he wishes and not hurt men for my sake. But I'm frozen when I hear it. Boots step forward, scratching on dirt. I turn to look. A man in a black fitted shirt, sans coat. His boots are as dark as the stoned floors. But he moved them. No mistake in his confident step. I've never met him before.

Then another comes forward. I turn to him too. He looks at me and then at Aro. My gaping mouth is speechless. And then another moves forward.

And another...

_And another..._

I'm turning on my heels around and around and they come forward, slowly but still. Paul among them, just as speechless as I when he looks at me.

Aro is stunned. His arm slips and the barrel points to stone. The young man steps back and snatches his gun out of his grasp. He tucks it back in place where it belongs.

Aro turns to me and he won't say a word. He can't. The glaring of many angry men falls on him too heavily.

I clasp my hands behind my back. I thank them with a soft smile of disbelief. A glance at each and every one of these brave men who have saved me. And I don't even know their names.

I turn to Aro and I say it, and it feels like honey going down a burnt throat, "I guess you'll never know."

I step back and walk away, breezing by a random guard as I skim a palm on his arm in thanks.

_They haven't come, but miracles happen without them._

—•—•—••

I get to the room and close the doors. I take a heaving breath of calm. But there's a knock behind me and I stare at it right back. _Is it Aro?_ But he wouldn't knock. He would break the doors down. I reach for the knobs and turn them.

Charlie is dragged in. The guards from outside are soaked through their clothes. They deposit him on a leather couch. Unconscious.

I nod, but I'm confused. "Thank you." They turn to leave and I stop them. "Please, can you bring clothes?" They look at me. "Anything you have."

"Of course, ma'am," one of them says politely. This is weird. I'm not used to their kindness. What has changed? I stand watching the doors as they close it behind them and I can't believe it.

Charlie groans. I look at him and..._God, what do I do? What now? _

I smooth his hair back and he's bloodied and blue. "What has he done to you?" but he doesn't respond. For the rest of the night he's in another world where there isn't pain. I watch him for hours and I can't believe the circumstance. How things turn and you're forced to care for someone who has done you wrong.

But I remember Sue's words from the big book to honor your mother and your father. _My father. _

I can't decide if I should pound on his chest or cry.

On the first hour of watch I decide I will not honor him. Ever. But I use a cloth to wipe his face, neck, arms and chest. He doesn't wake.

On the second hour, black clothes arrive in a bundle under a guard's arm. His name is Riley. He's originally from tennessee and has a soft smile but strong arms. He lifts Charlie's torso while I slip on the new shirt. When we're done with the rest I thank Riley and he leaves with a tip of his hat.

Tears betray and spill while I watch Charlie on the fourth hour. I wonder how does one forgive a hurt that goes so deep? To see the hate in a father's eyes towards his own flesh and blood. I don't know. But Sue said once all things are possible through Christ who gives us strength and time that heals.

Morning comes and Charlie is still not awake. I watch the clouds break and the sun beams without failing. It always does. I see the light. I decide maybe someday I'll find it in me to try Sue's words somehow. But not today. Maybe another day when the sun comes up again.

I shower. I dress. I'm new. Aro is nonexistent. I even feel hunger again.

I go to the doors and crack them open. Riley looks up. He's been standing guard all night. He nods and listens to my request. He is attentive and says 'Yes ma'am" when I'm done.

I close the doors and I hear groans and whimpers coming from the bed just in time. I walk over to Charlie and a single eyelid is open. He cries.

"Listen to me," I say to him. I lean close enough for him to shift his head slightly. "I'm taking you out of here."

His lips part but nothing comes out. He whimpers. He reaches for my fingers against the sheets. He misses.

"They'll take you to the hospital somewhere. But I won't go with you." His eye closes and a thick drop falls. He blinks and his lashes are long. "I can't have you here. You have to promise me you'll run the minute you are able. Do you hear me? I won't save you from him again," I say. He nods and looks over at me. "I have to save myself or no one will."

His chest trembles with a sob. I sigh. My palm reaches and I cover his heart. "Not now, ok? I can't right now. We don't have time." I look at him. He takes a breath and his body eases to try and calm.

"Just answer me one thing. Was it all worth it?" My chin quivers. I look away when a sob breaks again. He reaches for my fingers and this time he catches them.

"You won't go back to this. You've made enough of a mess. I don't want to see you around here again. Do you understand? One chance." He nods once. I stand to fetch Riley outside my door waiting with another man.

They rush in and lift Charlie off the bed. "Thank you. I'll find a way to repay you one day." Riley shakes his head and there's his smile again.

They leave and I'm alone. Like nothing happened in these rooms. Like repentance of a father's sins never spilled on the sheets of this bed. I watch the windows. I send up a prayer for strength and think the morning away wishing I could run too.

—•—•–•

Next morning I awake and Aro is on a plush chair staring at me. Fresh clothing, immaculate as always, but looking like the earth shattered over him.

"What do you want?" I snap. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and rub my face. _Tired_ _of this shit_. I was left in my room all day yesterday. No food. Nothing to drink but tap water.

"What? Are you going to beat me? Cut my head off?" I huff.

He shakes his head. He's tame and looks at his lap where his thumb and index pull on a crease of his pants and then back at me. This is weird. My nerves spike.

"You're just like your mother," is all he says.

I run my hand through my hair. I suddenly feel exposed. He keeps his gaze stuck.

"Don't you speak of her. You have no right." Murderous anger riles up.

He looks away and nods after a beat. "You're right. I don't."

I squint at him from feet to the tip of his hair on his head. _What's his game? _He's looking at my nightgown. I pull on it. "You always did look inviting on mornings."

I roll my eyes and climb off the bed towards the bathroom. I have to shimmy around him to get by, he's so close. His knee jabs mine roughly. "Sit," he orders. His patience thinned. My bones ridged. I'm forced to sit.

Just then the doors to the room open and a cart with food on shined silver platters is rolled in. The middle aged woman keeps her focus on setting it by Aro, never looking up. She leaves.

My stomach rumbles loudly. I sigh, looking at my hands, avoiding the silent stare. He was never the type to withhold food as punishment. But he has and now he tortures me.

"We have a deal," he says. His pinky skims his lip where he leans on a couple of fingers—that have not yet reached for the fresh coffee I inhale from where I sit.

"Do we?"

"Oh yes," he says smiling. "I believe I spared your _father_. Did I not?" I don't respond. I silently wonder if Charlie made it out and lying on a hospital bed now.

Aro's clothes rustle when he moves to pick up the kettle full of warmth. The porcelain clinks. He stirs the perfect amount of sweet that I'm accustomed to. He remembers. "You didn't. I did. Wasn't for you to decide," I say. I follow his hands all the while. He picks up the cup and sips. _Not for me._

"Semantics." He licks his lips. His finger bends, beckoning me. He leans in. I watch him and he waits. He lifts the cup to my lips that are sealed. "Open or I'll pry those cherry-drops with my teeth."

I warily take a sip.

He smirks and puts it down. He picks up a piece of buttered bread. "Toshiro awaits your meeting." He looks at me. I take a bite when he offers. Not from my hands, from his. "I expect your undivided attention and graceful presence at his side. Is that understood?"

I breathe fire into my lungs with the anger simmering.

"Nothing has changed, Ms. Phoenix." I bite off the strawberry he teases me with too roughly. He pulls back his fingers slightly. His eyes move up to mine.

"It hasn't?" My brow lifts. His grin fades. He tenses and sits back to wipe his hands on a napkin. He stops feeding me. He's offended by my insinuation of what happened. Everyone has anger for him.

His tongue moves inside his left cheek. He swallows the grape he was chewing on. "That's been taken care of diligently."

My stomach drops. What does that mean? Was death the consequence for brave men who stood up for me? I watch the doors wondering if Riley is still alive. Paul.

_Paul._

"How?" I ask. He stands and I watch his back moving under his tailored jacket as he buttons it. "What did you do?" I shout.

He turns and that grin fucks with me again. "I guess you'll never know," he says. The doors slam behind him, leaving my words from his lips lingering to taunt me.

"_Bastard!" _I yell...but the doors won't respond.

I'm numb for the rest of the day. The clouds turn and move out of the way. I can see the blue sky. Imagining a gigantic lense watching me. It makes me angry.

_They won't come. _

Why all the waiting? Why the suspense when I'm here. "I'm right here!" I yell at nothing. The sun goes down and everything is silent.

_...Do as he says. _It bangs in my head. The same, the same. Every second. But I'm too angry. My hands shake and I'm too hungry.

I sit and eat the rest of what's left on silver platters. Cold coffee. I can't be useful weak if i need to fight that man at dinner. To hit or kick or use whatever limbs will move to keep him arms length.

The doors open and two people walk in. None talk but dress me and style my hair. A dress on its hanger awaiting for my trial. For hell. But once I slip into it a calm settles. It's red. It's what I need to breathe. Strength surges with _his _color.

The sleeves are capped and the neckline dips too low. The length makes up for it, even with the deep slip that runs up my thigh. Too high. But I'm ready. I'm left alone in my room until another knock on my door calls. Another guard with a hard stare walks in. No Riley.

"Ma'am," he says. He walks ahead and doesn't offer an arm for heels that are too tall for these floors. Not a gentlemen either. I look around for Paul's eyes and nowhere. No dark corners are occupied with hope. We drive off.

The restaurant is asian cuisine with dark walls and rich sleek furniture. A water fall at the center allowing serenity in an expanse space. Women with every cream colored skin and sharp eyes lounge around. Men in suits and sleek hair, looking much wealthier than the typical rich neighborhood with people down an avenue. Dealers and high rollers dine here. Their cigars puffing and arms wrapped around women who aren't linked to the wedding ring gleaming from their fingers.

I straighten my spine. The walk to the table is stretched by a long walk way filled with wandering eyes. I feel exposed. I try not to fidget. I'm alone. Guards are with me but linger behind. The swivel of my earrings are cold like the shiver down my spine. Something tells me this place can swallow you whole or trade you a lucky card if you keep your eyes to yourself.

Toshiro stands when he sees me. His thin hand reaching for mine and a kiss. Everyone glances, but never stare for long. A single waiter sweeps in and out unnoticed. A drink in front of me before I even sit. "Such a pleasure to see you again," he says. I nod. I occupy myself with settling in a chair. I look around casually. The view of the crowd at my side and I wish I was lost between them. Anywhere. My nerves a storm. Where I sit is where the party begins and ends. They all gravitate to the one I share this meal with tonight.

I should probably feel honored if I was someone else or cared.

"Aro tells me you were a journalist once." My eyes narrow. _How did he know? _I nod once.

"It must've been a dramatic change in career for you. He must keep you very busy," he says. He takes a sips of his dry drink. I smile as best as I can. He chuckles deep. He watches me while a waiter arrives to place menus in front of us. Toshiro lifts a few fingers and murmurs words I can't translate. The waiter grabs the menus and leaves. "I ordered us a house platter I know you will enjoy. I hope it apeases you."

I nod. Silence is awkward and he continues to stare. I look over my shoulder, fidgeting. Tables behind us with patrons having dinner. Wine glasses and whispered conversations. Some catch my eye and look away. They laugh and drink freely.

"I must know, Ms. Phoenix, who stole your tongue tonight? I will take his life and give you speech again."

"Oh..." I laugh, "Not necessary. I'm well able to speak, thank you."

"Then please, I would love to hear your voice. Tell me, how is it you plan to charm me tonight?" His fingers steeple.

I grin. "I'm afraid the pleasure is all mine. This wine...This place is...quite the atmosphere. Do you charm women here often?"

He shakes his head. All humor gone from his expression. "Never. Only a lovely woman like you and lucky enough to share this with. I usually...dine alone."

"That's unfortunate. A man like you, I'd think you'd be entertained regularly."

He pushes a laugh through his nose. "No. I by no means have the pleasure of such company as Aro."

"I should feel honored."

"You should," he answers quickly. It's sharp and spears. I smooth my hair over my shoulder. His eyes cut to my chest. I take a sip of my drink.

"Sir."

"Toshiro," he corrects. I smile.

"What is your game exactly?"

He blinks. The bluntness taking him by surprise. But he smirks leaning his elbows on the table. "Game?" he asks. I lift an eyebrow. "The game, Ms. Phoenix, is to take advantage of this opportunity."

"The Berry. It's what you want."

He laughs and places a cigarette between his lips from his breast pocket. I tense when he reaches to get it. A man in a sleek black suit strikes a match. "Is that what you speculate?"

I don't respond.

"Ms. Phoenix, I'm not a man to chase after things. If I want it, I find any possible means to take it. The Berry isn't what I need," he says nonchalantly. I find some truth in his expression. He's serious. Isn't that what everyone wants?

"Then what do you want?"

He doesn't answer. He's suddenly distracted. His glare behind me where people sit at tables. His eyes darken for a moment and they stay glued to his focus. His guards don't seem to notice. People mingle to soft music still playing through the atmosphere. Nothing moves.

Then why does my skin prickle? My bare back feels frigid. I exhale a nervous breath, glad for his distraction. A pause. A blink. I turn to look at what sparked his interest as he takes a drink. And there is he is...

Edward.

I weaken. A thousand volts strike me. The sky opens, clouds rolling over the split ceiling. I'm falling but I'm sitting. I'm warm but I'm frozen. I never find the end to the abyss that opens beneath me. A force sweeps me from darkness in a blink of my eyelids. A push, a pull. A beacon.

My heart is pounding...pounding...pounding.

The doors to the restaurant open and Edward walks in. Time slows when you watch your dream materialize to reality, moving with strides of purpose. He's a stranger, but I know him. I've forgotten. Everything rushes back again. The scent of him, the feel of his skin and bones against mine once upon a time. The relief of a thousand boulders are lifted off like worries, yet fear is a threat if he disappears once I blink. So I don't. My stomach plummets and so does my drink. Glass shatters at my feet.

_It isn't. It can't be. _Edward Masen in here.

Casual and composed, he walks through the lounge with stretched carpet, inviting, welcoming his presence with every turn of heads. People feel him. They watch. His strong hand pulls on a cuff that catches the soft lights. He wears a dark suit fitted immaculately to his form. Dark tie over a chest I've held with eager hands before. The man that catches my gaze, who I've never stopped loving with every breath I take, never looks away. I remember him. He's different but the very same. Just the way I left him. There's more of him.

My Edward.

He tears his gaze away and it's acid. Indifferent. He walks pass Toshiro and I and reaches a table. I barely notice the woman at his side. All legs. Her dress. Her glowing skin. He leads her with an arm around her waist.

Rosalie looks the part. She fixes her eyes to those who glance. The gleam in her faint smile is lovely but deadly. Together, they fit like royalty. The crowd of onlookers striding by, part to make a path for them.

A young waitress blocks my view. I blink. I come to. She kneels to clean and pick up the pieces, but not my heart that I know is scattered among them. I fumble. I reach to help her.

"Enough," Toshiro orders after long awkward mumbled apologies. The waitress stands. A bundle of apron holds the mess. She scurries away, leaving me the most unfathomable view in the room.

Right there, facing me, Edward sits. His leg folds over the other, mimicking mine. An elbow on the glass table beside him is graceful but strong. He's a specimen like no other in this entire room full of men. If they only knew, everyone, that he was mine once.

His eyes trail from the floor my heels dig into, up my legs, to the tip of my head, finding my wide gaze. And there, his eyes are the same, brilliant jades.

"Ms. Phoenix, would you like a moment to gather remnant pieces or have you lost something?" I snap my gaze towards Toshiro. I'm still bent at the waist, my fingertips touching the ground that managed to keep solid and not swallow me.

I can't speak. I right myself. My head moves to answer him. I smooth a hand to my neck to hide the red that surely matches my dress.

The waitress arrives with another drink. I look through the gap between her arm and her hip. And Edward's eyes haven't ceased to find mine. A chill eases up my spine.

The waitress begins to leave. I panic. I grab onto her apron. She stops and looks at me. My chest is heaving and she asks if I need anything. Her voice weak, terrified. "Napkin?" I ask but I'm not looking at her, but right through her. Between hip and elbow. She sighs in relief above me, nervous. I force myself to let go when she tugs at my grip.

Toshiro is watching me. I smile. I clear my throat. "Ahh..." I try. My throat dry. "I..."

"Yes, you," he interrupts. I look into his eyes.

"Me..." I stutter, confused.

"You asked what I want. That is my answer."

I take a shaky breath. The intensity from far away weighs a ton. I can feel him. I dare not to look or I will crumble. I will run to him.

"That's...ridiculous," I manage to say. I stare at my shaking hands on my lap. My fingers blur with drops gathering in my tear ducts. _I can never be anyone elses. _"I'm already taken," I whisper.

"Of course. But Aro isn't a threat," he says. I jolt. His fingers graze my leg beneath the narrow table. Up my calf to my bare thigh, ascending hastily. I unfold them. Panic. I glance that way, fast enough to see jades turn deadly. My stomach stirs. I fidget. I sit straighter. Toshiro just smirks. Oblivious to a killer lurking.

"I'm flattered. But it isn't what you really want. We both know that," I seethe between teeth. He nods. He leans back, an elbow over the back of his chair.

"You caught me," he shrugs. "I need more than what you can give me."

"Which is?"

"A key, Ms. Phoenix," he says sharply.

I shake my head. "You're out of luck. No one knows where to find it." I turn to my right casually. Metal doors with bolts and studs segregates the room from freedom. But they aren't open. My mind running.

I glance where Edward sits with an ebony drink that appeared in his hand. He swirls the ice in a circle. Hypnotizing. I move to his eyes again. He's calm. Beautiful. _What are you planning to do? _I want to yell. Faint. Combust. Throw all caution away. But I hold the sides of my chair. _I will. I will run to you. _But he just stares.

I look away, not able to hold this gaze that kills me. A whirl inside of me with nerves of a teen. Doodles of hearts kind of love. The boy of my dreams is close enough to touch. I can't eat when platters arrive. I can't speak. I can't look at him. Every detail. His hair tamed but longer, darker. His fingers combed through it, still show through locks. Lips deep red and parted. A tongue skimming through sharp teeth I still feel on my skin. Just like that. Everything is vivid again.

"Ms. Phoenix," Toshiro calls. I look up from my plate that's blank even with heaps of food. "Have I upset your appetite?"

I try to smile. "Forgive me. All this speak of...work upsets me. Trust me. I am just as curious as you...about things. I want the best for Phoenix Inc." _Lies._

He cuts through a colorful piece and takes the bite. He drinks. I slip my heels off. Edward watches this as I push them under the table. I slide food over porcelain with metal chopsticks, heavy in my hands. _Say the word, Edward._

"That's what I admire about you. I've seen your work. Your passion. It's why I'm taking you to Hong Kong with me," he says nonchalantly. The sticks freeze mid air going for my lips.

"Excuse me?"

"We're leaving tonight." He smiles, wiping his mouth.

"I...don't understand," I gape, "And what would Aro think of this?"

He shakes his head. "He doesn't think, Ms. Phoenix. That is the problem. I have plans that are bigger than any he can fathom." I blink.

"It's simple," he waves a hand, "I have my own lab established. The Berry is a child stem compared to what I have developed. Aro has been generous and helpful...but reckless."

"You manipulated the Berry."

"Of sorts," he answers. He's proud. "It took...many tries but...we've multiplied. We've succeeded. I've come to find the second key to seal it, once and for all. And...I will find it, Ms. Phoenix. Rest assured."

I'm speechless. How many people has he killed to figure it all out? This is worse. Aro is a kind soul compared to this man in front of me.

Toshiro reaches for my hand that's limp beside my plate. His lips seal the deal on the back of my hand. I'm too numb to feel him linger on every fingertip.

"And what the fuck do I have to do with this?" I snap. Anger whirls in me. Toshiro's eyes darken above me. I gasp. He pulls my chin towards him, mere inches.

"You're the bait, Ms. Phoenix. You are linked to keys of all kind. They come to you, it's a matter of time," he snarls. I yank away from his grasp. I instantly look away to find my anchor. Fear is palpable.

Edward isn't at his seat.

I look around and he's nowhere to be found. Not even Rosalie. I'm panting when I turn back to this devil across from me. He's composed and fixing his jacket. His guards have barely moved an inch. No one seems to notice evil in this man and what he's done.

Then I see it in his eyes when he looks up. His hands spread over the table to stand. His expression reflects a gleam of alert and terror aimed above me. He never gets a chance. Not a raise of a finger to warn his men. My hand is enveloped in warmth. A familiar spark runs through my arm to my chest. I hold my breath. The chopsticks are slipped out of my grasp...and swiftly stick through the eyes of Toshiro's guards, one at a time. They drop simultaneously.

People turn to look, alarmed.

Toshiro looks behind him. Unguarded. Wisps of his hair loosen from his perfect dark knot. His snarl a mess of teeth where he helplessly sits, watching, unarmed, doing nothing.

I don't see anything else but a blur above me. My head is pulled possessively, with want. Edward kisses me when my head falls back. Deep, like his hand that slips in my dress. He deposits a cold blade under my bare breast.

"I'll be outside," he whispers over my lips. I breathe him in with sealed lids. Drunk with his scent. I blink and he's gone. The metal doors cracked open. No guards blocking its way. Not a soul to harm me, leading the way.

I'm a heaving mess, sitting here and people saw it all. He leaves me here. I turn to a stunned Toshiro. Red all over his features. And I tell him, "Like I said...you're out of luck."

The doors down the hall open. People scream. Toshiro's men run in through the main entrance. I take the distraction. Adrenaline in my veins. I pull out the blade and flick my wrist. He grasps his neck. Crimson spills down his hands. I leave the blade behind, stuck through Toshiro's heart.

I run...I run...I run. Nothing will stop me now. Freedom is a brisk night and my love waits for me. He holds onto a rope. The drop below this high tower is far. His arm extents, free from his jacket and rolled up sleeves. Hs fingers bend. He tells me to _come. _As if I'd ever hesitate.

My dress is a river flowing behind me. Tears skim my temples as I run. A blurred Edward catches me when I crash into him.

My love...my love...my love is here. He doesn't need to instruct me as I wrap my legs around him. He drops. The harness burning and scratching above us. I hide in his shoulder.

"Edward." And that is the first time I've said his name out loud for the longest time. Gunshots flair from up above. But I could care less. We're down below far enough. I find refuge in a collar covering scarred skin. _Him._

We land on a mossy wet stone. I unwillingly climb off him. He lets go of the rope and pulls me to the edge where the water moves below. He looks at me, as if asking me to trust him. He doesn't utter a word but I know...he knows. I'd follow him to the seventh hell where Dante finds his Beatrice.

He takes my hand. I jump and pull him with me.

We float under dark waters that suddenly brightens. We emerge and I gasp. A ball of fire up above. The explosion loud and enormous. The entire restaurant and guards gone. Rosalie comes to mind but I don't say anything. He's focused, pulling me along a canal. She played the part well after all.

A ski boat is near and he pulls himself up. In one blink I join him with his extended arm. The engine roars and he takes my hands to hold onto a metal frame. Securing me in a seat, he buckles me in. So close, his face barely skims mine. He's kneeling in front of me.

I follow his long lashes, fluttering, my nose close to his, but he's not himself when he's like this. I miss it. I savor every movement and muscle under his soaked shirt. He's here. Really and truly. I've never felt happiness like this.

I can't help it. My fingers skim his cheek. And then my palm on the other. He stops and looks up. The air rushing out of his parted lips. His chest fills and releases.

"Hi," I whisper. He watches me for such a long moment I wonder...until the corner of his mouth lifts. Hooded eyes drop to my lips. My tears spill and I can't speak. They find a place on my lap between us, over his hands. I crash into these lips I've missed and never thought I'd feel again. He straightens from his crouch on his knees between me. Hands and a tight embrace that suffocates. I melt like poodles of water beneath us when he's frantic. I taste him.

I wish it never ends but he hugs me. Another boat travels by. He's all watchful eyes and tense muscles. He pulls us from view. I bury my nose in his chest while he does what he does best.

I'm happy...happy...happy with this breeze against my face, a warm blanket around me, and a view of Edward's broad back maneuvering this boat to safety.

I taste freedom on my lips.

—•—•—•

**Lots of questions I know. Just hit me up. I love reviews. Makes it feel worthwhile. Even if it's just a 'Hi'.**

**I fell for him all over again. Edward of my dreams. I'll really try to make it quicker for the next. We're almost at the end.**


	29. Chapter 28: Contra

**A/N I'll just leave this right here. Busy couple of months. 'Nuff said. Thanks so much for your reviews I read them all with a smile. I see you still adding! Patience, i'll finish it. I never quit anything. And I love this too much.**

**Thanks to Beta for jumping in and reading and editing the words I should know how to spell. Losing my mind here.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — losing it.**

—•—•—•

_**Sound: A Perfect Circle - A Stranger**_

—•—•—•

**Chapter 28 - Contra**

He slips his fingers through mine. I look down at our hands. Scarred rough, encasing thin and pale. He's not hesitant. Not anymore. A year ago he wouldn't be holding my hand, he'd pull me to hurry, to move. The difference now is so clear It's saturated hues of an open sky.

This time when he tugs my hand its to keep me close. To never let go. He glances over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure I'm still here, not a pale thin hand detached from my body, taken away by black coats again. I stand behind him, peeking over his shoulder at the tall grass. The shadow beyond the tall grass by the window. Aro's army is out here trying to find me and I'm watching him.

Edward is focused. Not a word from him the whole time we got here, the storm to get here. The whole night has passed, bringing dawn and oranges and yellows.

Nicholai Aro doesn't know what I've come back for.

—•—•

"Edward," I call him. Saying his name is felicity. Relief and strength. He's close enough to hear me. He's by my side where he can turn his head and look at me, bones and flesh. But he doesn't. "Edward," I call again. This time the creeping panic stains my voice.

The boat jostles me. I press the blanket over me. I'm strapped into the seat where he placed me but I'm pivoting from left to right.

His arms are tense, round with the effort of sailing the boat, faster and faster. I look back. Nothing. I look around and then I see them. The dark cars driving parallel to the water's edge. We're being followed.

Stupid of me to think this would be easy.

I look up at Edward, dark in the night, shadowed by bay lights and the moon. A bridge is close and brightly lit from under it. I watch him in an orange glow when we breeze under it. His brows heavy with focus. His jaw set to cut. He's a killer now. I shrink back in this seat. All I can do is wait, see, witness his strength. Take it all in because I've missed it. The look in his eyes. His hands.

He doesn't respond when I whisper his name again. I look away. The vehicles are relentless. They're crashing over roadless ground, maneuvering around obstacles to stay at our side. This can't be Toshiro's men. They're all dead. Up in the burning tower we jumped from. This is Aro.

_What do we do?_

It's quiet. Only the engine roaring beneath us. Chaos beside us but can't reach us. Like watching a shark swim around the perimeters of a boat, but never taking the bite.

We take the round of a bend and it pulls us in closer to the edge. Steel gleams in the night, out of tinted windows. A shot and then another. His hand comes over my head and pushes me out of aim. The boat sparks but nothing reaches us. My heart...it pounds and this isn't what I expected. I want happiness. To dwell in it. It dissipates with every throttle and push.

I take the second to hold on to his hand when it loosens and travels down my cheek. Press my lips to it. I let go and watch him use both to move this boat. Away from this. I ball my fists and keep low incase bullets fly again.

I don't want this. _God please, I've had enough. _

But this is the peak of the end. Nothing goes down peacefully.

I scream. Shots this time are too close. I look up to take inventory of his body. Nothing touched. A ball of his shirt in my fist. To come this far and lose him now—I'd die. I'd give up. I would. I'd unstrap from this seat and accept a bullet with wings, through and through my skull.

But he's calm. Collected. Of course he is. He rushes towards a bridge coming near. "Take the seat belt off," he says. But I barely heard him. He turns and with one hand maneuvering the wheel, he reaches for the strap around my lap with the other. I shakily finish for him when I understand.

The bridge is deep and dark. It's rushing closer with every throttle. He takes my hand and lets go of the wheel. The boat slows but doesn't stop...and we're going to jump. I tense up.

I barely get a handle of my coherence and he already has a foot on the ledge, an arm around me. He grunts. We land in shallow water, soft moss, stumbling to stand and keep going. My dress holds me back. He pulls me under the darkened stone walls as the boat continues off alone down the canal. Rushing cars follow it. Noise and chaos above us and they foolishly pass right over us. Relief in my bones as it grows quiet.

Fabric rips and I look down to find him shortening my dress, freeing a large panel with a fist. He presses himself to me when he stands. "You look..." he whispers breathlessly, fanning on my cheeks. His eyes travel. A ripple through me at his expression and his hands. "But it has to go," he says. I agree wholeheartedly. All of it. And him. Heat rushes like it waited a long year. Silently, we find our air, locked gazes. But he drops the piece of dress to the ground and we move. I can barely take a breath...but not from the excursion.

Climbing steep makeshift steps he looks around. No one. Trees and a quiet road. He reaches behind a broken wall of stone. A large bag appears in his hand. We run across and keep going through trees in the dark. This is too familiar for us.

I'm barefoot and soaked through this thin dress. His chest seeping dark through his shirt. The frost of the night is not a companion. But I keep running. I'm free and nothing is better than this moment.

Dim streetlights up ahead and he tells me to keep going despite cracks under my bare feet. I wince. Broken down buildings to our left and he leads me to the back of them. With effort, he pulls on a metal rusting door. It gives. We step in through a hallway with cracked plaster. He pushes on another door and warmth envelops us. The light bulb dangling from the ceiling is dim but enough to brighten a cot and a bared bathroom. Radiators give off steam and I gravitate to them as he pulls away to check the small window. My teeth are chattering. I rub my hands over ghosted steam. Heavenly.

"I know you're tired but we can't stay here," he says from behind me. I feel him soon after. Butterflies in my stomach when his chest rises against my back.

I shake my head. Locks of soaked hair fall over my shoulders. I can't look at him. "Not tired." I'll take days of no sleep to run and keep running. With him, anything. But I'm suddenly nervous around him. It's too quiet and his hands linger, rubbing down my arms.

I can't believe it. It's like I'm stuck in a dream. If it isn't real, it's cruel. I'll cry a thousands tears if I wake up now. Silence is a giant between us. I hear him swallow heavily. His hands follow mine. I watch as he covers them with both of his. It's real. He's really here. Our fingers tangle to accept the heat in between and over and under. Sparks fly up my arms, through my limbs and I don't need this radiating heat anymore. It's all him and his mouth pressing into my hair.

"We have to change into dry clothes," he says softly. But I'm already crying. I can't move now. Not when he cups my shoulders and pulls off this dress. I burst. Tears aren't enough. A sob crumbles me and I turn in his arms. I hold on so tightly to let it all out on his damp shoulder. Dress be damned and forgotten around my waist as I grip around his neck.

"You don't know...you just...I thought you were dead."

"Bella." And he's crumbling just as much as I am. I can barely breathe with this crushing hug he's giving me.

"I was alone. I just...I missed you...so fucking much...I wanted to die too."

"Shh, Bella." But his voice is off and his arms skim my back to crush harder.

I pull until his face is in my hands. "I thought they killed you...do you even know...how insane it made me?" Tears blur my vision of his face. He doesn't speak but touches his forehead to mine.

"I do." He nods. "I do know," he finally whispers. His eyes squeeze shut and I can see the pain. His longer hair and a new scar on his face signs of how much he's changed. But we've been through the same. A reminder of my grave in disarray. Of course he knows. It killed him too. My chin quivers and he kisses it and my cheek and my lips. Soft pecks turn hard and messy with trickling tears. He shakes his head when he lets me breathe. "You have no fucking idea."

He wipes at my tears with his palms to push them away. I just nod, holding back a cry threatening to leave my chest. I just want to fall over him and cry, let it all out and take in his scent I've missed so much. Everything sinks in and I'm inconsolable. But he steps back. He tugs the dress off my hips and I'm half bare. Shyness or shame doesn't even register. It's been so long I haven't felt his eyes on me, but I could care less. We're bonded. I feel them roaming with longing...and worry. I step out of the bundled fabric that was once beautiful.

"I should've killed him once he touched you," he rasps angrily, almost to himself, as he takes inventory of a scratch on my thigh. _Too dark to see the rest on my scars. I fear._ I look up, but I dare not respond. I knew he would've, but he left Toshiro to me.

He moves to his shirt and rips it open when his hands shake too much for small buttons. I stand there in awe, watching with endless tears. His scars. I've missed them the most. They're just as dark as I remembered.

I can't help it. I'm wrapping myself around him again before I know it. He sighs. We have to hurry but he gives in with eagerness, holding me. I sigh with the warmth, burying my face in his scars. _God... _A kiss for every lift on my toes to reach his neck. "You have to tell me...everything," I plead with a suffocation hug. Chest to bare chest.

"I will," he says. He moves us towards the bed with a death grip around me. My feet barely touch the floor as he pulls me along. He takes clothes out of the bag with a freed hand. I can't bear to detach for a minute. I selfishly won't. He leans back and pushes a shirt over my head. I give him an arm and then the other. He folds it over my torso and lets me lean against him while he grabs his own.

We're shivering with the water still dripping down our necks. But we manage to get dressed. I sit, lacing on boots, watching him change into dry pants. He brought everything we need. I flush red when he looks at me through lashes and dripping hair. His fingers buttoning the two parts together over his abdomen.

I hold a breath when he leans over me. I instantly lift my gaze, fluttering lids, waiting for anything he'd give me. I grow red when he intended to grab a jacket to drape over my shoulders. "Up," he says. He buttons it all the way to my neck.

"You thought of everything," I tell him as I pull my hair out from behind me. He helps me.

"And your hair grew long," he says tucking some behind my ears, the rest down the hat of my sweater. "That's too bad..." he murmurs and bends to pull out documents—passports. My brows scrunch up.

My image on the passport makes me look younger with shorter hair to my neck. "Where did you get this?" I'm twenty three in the photo, I remember. My employee badge from my old job. Harry made me take the picture begrudgingly.

"Long story. It's the only one we could find."

"Well, I can cut it." I grab a lock wondering if he has a knife.

"No." He pulls me towards the door and that's settled. I bite into a grin behind his back. He likes it.

Fear is palpable at the prospect of finding what's outside. If they followed us, if they're right outside this door...it's over. Edward looks to all sides and steps into the night. I follow with not a word or complaint, but a question, "Where are we going?" He looks at his watch and keeps moving. The woods are before us and I know its where we're heading.

"Rosalie is waiting for us in a cabin south from here. We have to be there before dawn...unfollowed."

I nod from behind him. "Is she...alright? I mean, she was at the restaurant." He's looking around and seems to be preoccupied. I decide to casually let it wait until he responds with a nod.

"I hope so or..." he says.

"Or...? We're shit out of luck." I try to finish. He climbs a mound of earth and pulls me up. I brace myself on his shoulder.

"She's fine," he murmurs. But it's not convincing. Do they only have plan A? My mind runs at all the possible ways this could go wrong. Panic sneaks in through the dead of the night between these trees. We can barely see.

"It was her, wasn't it? Who set the explosives? I was surprised seeing her there after...everything. Well, I was surprised to see you. Both of you." I trail off with the blabbering. The sound of my voice heightens with every step. I look behind me when I hear things.

"She can take care of herself." I look up at his reply. My face heats up. I feel my shoulders drop at the sting. _She can, but apparently I can't, proof in his hand in mine, his rescue like a knight in shining armor. _The seeping feeling of regret and fault washes over me. We grow silent and with every step my mind boggles to find the moment where I went wrong, what I could've done more or tried harder. How I could've taken care of myself. I sigh. At that, he looks back. "So can you...have," he says, "You're...different."

I can't speak. When we cover a few more feet of trees he stops and turns. He looks at me. "Bella."

"I didn't...I don't think I tried enough. I did bad...things," I swallow a lump and shake my head at him, "I thought you were gone. I'm sorry. I..."

"Hey," he snaps, pulling me hard by my jacket. A lot has changed but his short fuse is still the same. I take a haste breath. My mouth seals shut when I look up at his angry, beautiful face. "You did what you had to do. That's how it is, Bella. Do or die. And with him..._anyone_. Anyone who crosses his path never lives. But you're here. I found you. That's all that matters, alright?" And stupid tears burn my eyes. I look away even if his fist is under my chin keeping it still.

"Alright?" he insist softly this time, pulling me against him slightly. I nod. A single drop rushes down my temple. His grip softens and he doesn't waste time to encase me against his chest. I breathe in the lapel of his jacket and try to swallow down the chastisement. But its heavy and bitter and full of guilt anyway. The things he has done to get to me. The things _I've_ done to get away from Aro. We're both guilt ridden beings, the same.

"I saw it...in your eyes," he whispers. "The way you sat with a spine of steel. Not taking an ounce of his shit. I was so fucking proud. You've changed, Bella. I let you finish so you'd see it for yourself." His lips press into my head and he says these things. I look at him.

"You did that?" He nods, holding onto my nape. "How did you know I would do it?"

His lip twitches. "I could've left you with a single bullet and you would've found a way."

"He was going to take me...like Aro did. He told me then. I looked for you but you weren't at your table," I tell him. Edward's face falls. He stares at me but doesn't see me. His throat bobs. He turns and pulls me.

"I should've left you an automatic." He curses under his breath. We continue walking.

I can't help it. A chuckle bubbles up. Then I laugh.

"It's not even close to amusing," he complains.

"It kind of is. You left me a small knife." I catch up to his side and look up at his profile. The moon is far but it still catches his face once in awhile. But I see it, his lips twitch. "Lucky for you I've been practicing."

He sighs. I can't help but smile like an idiot. And then I realize I haven't in so long.

"You have?" he asks, after comfortable silence. "Practiced?"

"I have," I nod, "First time he threatened me I knew I had to try." He stays quiet. I feel the anger radiating off him. I've hit a murderous nerve. The way his steps halted and continued, moving faster and pulling me along. His thumb swipes quick over the bridge of his nose. A clear sign he's furious. And I should've kept my mouth shut.

"I remembered everything you taught me," I rush to say with a humorless chuckle. He doesn't budge. I grow worried after a long moment. "It's fine, Edward..."

"It's not!" he shouts. I start. My hand slips away with the fright. He breathes deeply and seeks my palm again. He squeezes hard and lifts it to his lips. One hard kiss. "Please, just...do me a favor..." he says trying to sound composed, "Or I'll turn the fuck around right now..."

Leaves move far away. His eyes cut to our right. I'm on the ground before I get a look.

"Fuck," he rasps. He pulls on his pant leg, a strap there. A gun appears in his hand. It's different. The barrel is fully clothed in chrome. "Stay down." As if I'd ever stand. My breathing is choppy as he inches above us. And just as quickly he crouches. My fear is tenfold. He saw something.

He crawls forward and I instantly reach to keep contact. I grab onto his ankle. He snakes behind a tree and stands. His index a line over his lips with warning. I stay at his feet. Ridiculously holding onto his left boot. But it moves. He takes a step over to another tree.

"Edward," I whisper. He doesn't respond. It has grown so dark I can barely see him but the white of his eyes. Then they're gone.

I panic. I crawl to where he stood and my arm flails to find his leg. I only find more leaves and bark. _Shit. _I can't even hear the falls of his boots.

I fix to call him again when I almost yelp. Shots are fired off. It sounds close and loud. It stops after three. I peek over a bush and see a figure running towards me. But I can't see who it is. I gasp. My knees buckle but I'm on my feet and being dragged. My instinct is to fight.

"Run," Edward's voice. I heave with relief and begin to run at his order. He pushes me.

With the little moonlight, we run through a path. A clearing appears and Edward pulls me back before I run into it. He stops. A deer stands at the far right, alert and looking our way.

"What was it? What did you see?" He shakes his head, watching the tall animal graze grass when it doesn't fear anymore.

"Not sure. Maybe a deer. It was too dark. I tried to scare it away," he says, scanning the perimeter behind us and around the clearing. I let him work silently as I stand there finding every noise terrifying and traumatizing. Memories of the woods a year ago, alone, are too vivid.

"Don't you dare leave me again," I whisper. No filter. He looks at me.

"Just...don't do it, ever," I argue without his reply. His arm comes around me and I feel his lips on my forehead.

"Never. I'd never do that. I was right by you," he murmurs His hand catches mine. "I've got you." My chest rises and falls heavily. I just nod. My eyes cut to our left at an owls hoot.

"How much longer to Rosalie?" I try to change the subject, growing red with shame. He gestures with his head towards the right where the deer slowly paces. I freeze up. _How..._

"It's more afraid of you, Bella," he says, noticing my hesitance. "Come on."

The surreal feeling of having such a wild untouchable animal just a few feet away is terrifying and extraordinary all at once. I stare. We step around it as it casually eats.

Edward's hand is practically being crushed as I hold on. He guides me with his other arm around the small of my back to guide my steps.

The deer moves. I gasp. It looks up and we freeze. But it isn't looking our way. The shot ricochets through the thick damp air. The deer falls...and so do we.

I'm on my stomach. My ears ringing as shots after shots come from nowhere. I can't count them they're so many.

I try to breathe but I realize Edward is on top of me. There is someone out there.

He moves off and his hand is heavy on my back. "Bella," is all he says. And I know. I stay down where he pushed me. He's on his knees and crawling behind a tree. He pulls me by a leg and I'm dragged to his side. I scramble to find coherence. But it's too much. The firing doesn't stop and neither does the ringing in my ears.

Bark splits around us. My neck, my arm, his leg are sprinkled with splinters. He stands and my arms twitch, ready to pull him down. He won't die like this. I won't allow it. But he shoots. He's Edward and he's killer. His aim expert and deadly.

He pulls back and reaches for another chrome gun. This one in his jacket. He crouches and he gives it to me. No words but a haste transfer from his firm hand to my shaking one.

He reloads the other and all the while bullets fly our way. He snaps a magazine in with his thigh. He gives me that gun too.

I'm lying on ground, leaves and patches of grass that provide comfort. I extend my arms and aim.

My hands are alive. My body waking up to adrenaline. I will not die or let him die like this. Fear is swallowed whole down my throat and falling heavy in my stomach.

4, 5, 6, 7, 8.

Shots coming our way are weaker now. The sparks of fire I see from far are sparse. One man down.

Edward pulls a rifle from the duffel bag he carried with him. One, two, snaps with his hand and he lifts it to his shoulder. I flinch. These shots are louder. His right eye watches a green light through a peephole at the top. It lets him see through this dark habitat. I'm in awe with his body working. I lift the guns in my hands and work these too.

11, 12, 13, 14.

"Swan!" he calls. I look up. But he's already pulling me by my jacket to my feet. I barely straighten when he grips my shoulders and tosses me behind another tree. I tuck and roll just as a flying bullet skims by me. "Run!" Edward shouts.

"No!"

"Bella, _now!" _But I won't. I won't leave him here. I shake my head at him where he leans on bark. A bullet too close to his shoulder splinters wood. He turns to shoot. Fire from far away slows when he shoots once. Another man down.

Edward whirls my way only to argue with me again. But I pull the triggers, aiming around the edge of the tree to cover me. I leap towards him.

His eyes grow wide. He lets go of the rifle to catch me.

"Please, please, please... run with me. I can't leave you. Edward, please," I plead. He pulls me close and huffs on my forehead. He quickly moves me to lean against the tree he used as a shield.

"You are just..." He picks up the rifle and pins me. I cover my ears. These guns still in my hands. Too loud. I squeeze my eyes shut. They snap open when he pulls me. We run. Whoever is out there is getting closer. Edward finds us cover yards back. I'm pinned between him and a tree again. He takes a few shots cradling my head in one elbow, gripping the long barrel by my temple. I'm in a cocoon of Edward, watching his eyebrows furrowed, his mouth parted with a snarl of straight white teeth. One eye shut and the other watching the enemy.

_I love him. _I could just lean in and kiss his jaw and tell him. How I've missed him.

"Watch our back, Bella!" he yells above me, snapping me out of my daze.

_Oh. _I nod, exasperated. I turn the guns in my hands and aim under his arms. I look around over his shoulder but nothing, just darkness. Then I remember, there aren't bullets left in these chrome twins.

Holding a gun under my arm, I pat his sides. Inside his heavy jacket and down to his legs. And there they are. Many loaded magazines nestled in pockets. He is walking ammo, enough to kill an army.

The empty mags are out and I'm stuffing my hands back inside pockets to get new ones. But I wince. A pang of fear through me. A bright light, white and heavenly like a tunnel, beams our way. "Edward!"

He looks back for a second but turns. He's tense. His muscles taut instantly against me. I feel the sudden alarm crawl over him. Chaos in front of him and now behind. "Shoot!" he orders.

My heart is pounding as I cock a gun, but still have to load the other. The light gets bigger and closer. _Fuck it. _I aim the loaded one and shoot.

I practically jump out of my skin when I hear a loud bang behind me. Edward flinches. I can see it all in slow motion as he lowers the rifle. The fire reflects from his widened eyes. He pushes us to the ground. Heat is a wave beyond where Edward aimed. It lights up the trees and sky. Then another bang. Edward cowers, covering my head with his arms.

Where the light beams so does fire. We aren't the target.

"Rosalie," Edward whispers by my ear. I look at the giant light that is closer still. Edward stands and pulls me to my feet. We run towards the it like a saving grace. His arm is up shielding the the blinding brightness. "Rosalie!" he shouts this time.

I hear a faint laugh. The light lowers to the ground, brightening our path.

"Thought you'd never come," she says. She begins to jog away from us, we follow. The battery powered bulb in her hand looks like a truck headlight. She carries it by a handle.

The fire behind us dissipates in small patches of flames. I see dark figures moving in the distance like shadows. Whoever is out there is burning or dead by the small explosives Rosalie threw like grenades. We run farther into the darkness of the thick forest. The heaviness in my chest eases with every step.

The bulb is our guide to a rusted truck. The top open like a jeep. The wheels are huge and ribbed to grind and climb any hill or mountain. Rosalie jumps into the drivers seat. Her outfit fits the scene, cargo pants and boots to her calves. She doesn't look at me or seems interested that I'm following along behind Edward. It's been a year, but it's so like her. I can't help a shake of my head.

Edward lifts me to sit in the back. He follows, throwing the duffle behind us. I watch as she slams the bulb on the dashboard to brighten the way. She drives off.

We hear shots from afar. She pushes the truck faster. Edward tightens his hold around me. I brace myself. The truck climbs a high hill tilting us with the steep climb. I breathe when we come upon a paved road. Gun shots left far behind.

—•—•—•

The trees are parted to reveal a cabin miles away now. Weeds grow taller than the dirt grime windows. A porch is cracked and lopsided, leading to a wooden door with metal bolts still intact. A glow comes from the windows that set a warmth over the vines of leaves growing up the exterior to the roof.

I jump off the truck. Rosalie has already cracked the door and went inside. I look at Edward. He takes a step and extends a hand towards me. "Come," he says softly.

Suddenly, I'm hesitant. I don't quite feel welcome. He guides me in and I know wherever he goes, so will I. So I take his hand anyway. I walk with him.

The interior is not better than the outside. But it's warm. A fireplace billows from the far corner. The only sign of life here is old frames with faded photos hang from torn wallpaper.

Rosalie stands across the room, a tin cup in her hand. She drinks. She stares at me over the brim. "So," she speaks after she swallows, "You're alive it seems." I blink. I feel Edward walk around me and drop the duffle beside a haggard couch. The look he sends her way doesn't escape me.

"It seems," I agree. "Nice to see you too." She looks at me from head to toe.

"You look like shit."

I smile. "Thanks." Edward leaves us to walk deeper into the back rooms. He checks every corner and crevice for intruders. I yearn to follow him but it would seem too needy. I force myself to stay still. "You look great too." I tell her. I turn my gaze towards her. She's still watching, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over her chest and guarded.

It's awkwardly silent. I take a step away from the closed door and roam around the couch to the fire. It's warm. My limbs heat in seconds. I sigh. I still feel her glare on the back of my head.

I swallow a thickness. "Rosalie, I...thanks...for..."

"Don't," she stops me. I look over my shoulder. He pushes herself off the counter and walks out of a shadow. Her eyes shift to the fire. Her expression solemn and calm. "It was...the least I could do." She looks into my eyes. _For Edward. _I nod understanding.

"It was...that bad?"

"You have no idea," she whispers. My heart seems to thump oddly at her words. I want to ask her a million questions, but I can't. Edward walks in. He's lost in his own head, checking every crack and window to this place to make sure it's secure. But I can't look away from her. All I see is how wrong I was back there. How different Rosalie is and how much things have really changed.

I duck my head when he walks up to me. He gravitates to me. And it just emphasizes what she said. _Edward was a mess without me._

He unbuttons my jacket and pulls it off, down my shoulders, off my arms. I can only give him a forced smile. I'm sure it looks broken and sad. I let him do what appease him, the routine to make things right. He wrings out the dirt off the jacket, letting particles fly to the floor and hiss into the fire. He hangs it over a rocking chair to let it dry from the damp air.

He rubs my arms. "Good?" he murmurs just to me. I nod. But I notice he's just looking me over for any wounds with every pass of his hands. I lean into him and sag, fatigue taking over.

Rosalie catches my eye over his shoulder and I suddenly want to cry. I know. Her eyes shine too. She swallows heavy, quickly looking away. Her shell is too tough for emotion. She clears her throat.

"Don't shack up just yet. We only have a few hours," she says taking a step back. I push a laugh through my nose at Edward's death glare. She turns once again. "Try to stay alive while I'm away," she bluntly adds. She walks away into her assigned room.

From Rosalie, I'll take that as words of kindness.

"Hey." He tilts my chin up after a long moment. We sway slightly like you do when a hug lingers. I look up. His fingertips dab on drops clumping my lashes. "You alright?"

I grin. He's different. The Edward I knew wouldn't be this...affectionate. It's a much softer side I never witnessed more than few moments at a time. The rarity. He doesn't hold back now.

"Perfect," I reply. The tip of his ears heat. His eyes darken as his fingers now travel down to my lips. His cheek presses to mine where I feel his lashes fan softly. With every sway, his lips move closer. So, I do what I've been wanting to. I stand on toes and catch his lips. It's warm and it's bliss. Nothing compared to the fire burning wood beside us. He doesn't let go until we can't breathe. Even then I don't want him to. I peck my way over a hard jaw to soft lips until he folds into me again. My chest is filled. The hole sealed and shut with love and contentment. Threaded with a patch to hold it together again. I can barely breathe or hold on tight enough.

His hands wrap around my sides. They bump into the chrome twins nestled on my back. He stops. His lips parted midair.

"I'm sorry," I whisper against his mouth.

"For what." He pulls them out. One goes in his jacket. The other he places on the mantel.

"I...I guess, I... lost your Ivory guns. They were your father's and I know how much they meant to you." I stumble. I blink up to look into his eyes. I try not to cringe.

He's still, seeming to be far away in his thoughts. "How did you know they were my father's?"

"Azar. I...um...he told me." I fidget. His eyes narrow. "I thought...did he ever find you? Did he tell you I'm alive? I asked him to."

"He did," he simply replies. But something is off with his answer. "I saw him. He told me everything," he finishes.

"Thank God," I run my palms over his chest and pick at his collar, "I thought I'd never...I thought he'd never find you. He was the only one. Even Paul tried. You don't know. There was an explosion. The roof caved in and killed half the army. Azar was there to take me away but I told him. I sent him to find Alice...or...anyone. It was awful."

"I know. I was there," he says.

I gape. "You were?" He looks away. "I knew it...I felt it! I hoped so much. But...didn't you see me? I was right there."

He shakes his head. His palm rubs his eyes with anger. He doesn't answer.

"Were you...also there at the opera house?" He remains silent. He doesn't even look at me. His neck flushes. His chest rises and falls heavily. "You were there the same night Corporal Whitlock came for Aro, weren't you?"

He's so angry, I feel he'll erupt. I keep silent as he composes himself.

"If I would've known..." He swallows thickly. His fingers brush over his hair until his knuckles grow white. He shuffles his feet. Completely torn, ready to bolt or scream. I hold onto him. His shirt in my fists. I brace myself.

"Bella...I prayed. For something...anything. A single glimpse of your hair, your eyes. I promised myself that if I saw you I'd kill anyone...anyone to get you. Every time...I was wrong...It killed me. It kills me still. I could've had you sooner."

I nod. "I know. It's alright." But he shakes his head. It frightens me because I've never seen him this way. I don't know what to do. My heart is sand in my chest. I hold him to me and whisper in his ear to look at me. To breathe and keep calm. "I'm here now. It's ok." I'm crushed bones in his arms. But I let him. I'd take any pain for him.

Hours seem to pass and he calms. His lips on my shoulder.

"Bella, how do you know Azar?" He asks suddenly. I tense. _Shit. _

"I, uhh...you know." I shrug.

He gently pulls my hands away, but I feel the rejection. "No...I don't. It's why I ask," he says. I blink.

"Uh, well, he and I used to...he was..." Edward leans away. His nostrils flare. I'm frozen, my arms limp at my sides now, not touching him. He places an elbow on the mantle, staring, waiting. I take a breath. "He was a P.I. when I was working. I met up with him a lot for...work...leads." _For questions about you. _I won't mention that part.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous he is?" he asks, fire to his words. I grow angry. Why does this bother him? I cross my arms over my chest and give him a look just the same.

"Funny, he said the same about you," I deadpan. "Before I met you, we were friends. I knew how to take care of myself. I wasn't an idiot."

He keeps silent, watching me from under his lashes. And I hate this. Why is he standing over there and I'm over here? I roll my eyes. I step into his space and wrap myself around his waist. "Don't do this, alright? Stupid reason to be cold. We both needed him. That's all that matters." He's rigid, unmoving, but I don't care. I press harder and nuzzle his chest.

"He was a P.I. Nothing else," I say angrily. At that, his fingers thread through my hair. He pulls me under his chin roughly. Fear in my every limb. If he's this angry about Azar, imagine all the other awful things I've done...what Aro did. Even with his words about no regrets to survive, I try not to crumble in his arms. I can barely breathe. _He has no idea._

"How did you even get a chance to see him?" he asks. Valid question. But I won't answer. I shake my head and refuse. That night was the first time Aro hit me.

"Very...long story. Not enough time to begin telling you here." He sighs. I see his finger pushes at a frame where he leans. A photo of a group of people. It's old and almost faded to white. I pick it up.

I straighten when the faces are familiar, but young. "Who's cabin is this?"

"Carlisle's," he says, his voice laced with question. "He lived here for years when he first married." Edward explains. My fingers skim the glass. Carlisle is standing with his arm around a beautiful young woman, a sleeping infant in her arms, they're smiling. Beside him, a dark haired young man stands with his hands in his pockets. My stomach does a flip when I recognize him.

Aro.

He looked pale and almost melancholy. His brows knitted but his calm posture shows his maturity. I push dust around with a finger and a child appears under the grime. A boy. The sun is bright on him where he sits on the grass by the beautiful woman's feet. The blur reveals a blanket under him and a toy in his hand.

I frantically begin to smudge more dust away. I use the sleeve of my hoodie to wipe most of it. And slowly my heart stutters with every pull. I gasp.

"It's my mother." I look at him. He leans in over my shoulder to look too. He's curious just the same. I turn the frame and open the back to pull out the original. It's still stiff despite the years of dust.

"I've only been here once. I never noticed," he explains. We both lean in to the photo to see the details. Everyone is in it. Including me. "That's you." Edward points.

I'm in awe at the baby in Renee's arms. A woven lace hat covers my head from the sun. Ruffles and ribbons down my dress spills over Renee's arm. My thick little hand flails over my mother's chest holding onto a lock of her hair. The other is stuffed in my mouth as I chew on it. Renee looks stunning in a dress with flowers. It catches the wind. Even Charlie is there. Standing with a beer in his hand, resting on his thigh. He casually poses next to Aro, both standing by the edge of a picnic table that goes off shot.

"That's the front of the cabin," I whisper. Edward nods. Simultaneously, we look up to see the rest of the frames. He grabs one and I grab another. Soon enough all the walls are bare. Edward reached the ones too far up to reach. I took down the bottom ones. We have them all laid out on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. We pulled it up for better light.

Every photo is a variation of people we don't know and photos of Carlisle's family. We even find more photos of me, a little older in one, sitting by a boy on a hill. He stands behind me with a blank expression. But his hand is in mine as I sit on grass. His features pale, brown hair, almost red. His eyes are green though, so very much like his mother's. Carlisle's are blue.

"Who is he?" I ask. He takes his eyes off another image of Carlisle's wife and his son, it seems. Her hair flowing over the boys face where he hides almost completely behind its red tresses. Edward looks over at the photo in my hand. He shakes his head.

"I don't know. Carlisle never mentioned a son. I heard once he lost his wife, maybe he died too." He points at the frame in his hand. "Esme. That was her name. He was never the same since."

"Is that why Carlisle is...the way he is?"

"Maybe."

My mind wanders through faded faces. It would make sense. A jaded Carlisle, angry with the world for taking his happiness away. The photos show how much he loved her. How different he was. Then it hits me.

"Remember Renee's video? That was her, Esme, she was shredding files in the background with Carlisle." Edward nods remembering. He watched it more times than we can count. "Also doesn't explain the infant. Where is he or she?"

Edward drops a frame to pick up another. Before he has a chance to answer his brows furrow. He turns the frame to me. My stomach plummets. The photo is clear. Aro sitting at a desk, paperwork strewn everywhere, a child sitting on his lap. Me.

It was true. Aro's words that night, his confessions. I feel nauseous.

"He looks familiar, but I can't place him." Edward murmurs. "He's very fond of you. Did Charlie and Renee have family?"

I shake my head. I don't answer. I can't. To tell him it's Aro, that he was in love with Renee...and now me. He drops it on the pile and picks up another photo. Relief flows through me. He might leave it alone.

"Charlie is still alive," I mutter. He looks at me. "He might be able to tell us the truth."

"He was with you...all that time, wasn't he?" He asks. I nod. His anger flaring with the thought. "Your own fucking flesh and blood. I wish I'd pulled the trigger."

"Aro almost did. Well it wasn't a trigger but a waterfall." His eyes cut to me.

"He forced you to watch?"

I pick up a photo and stare blankly. "He gave me a choice."

"What choice?" He asks. He tenses beside me. "Tell me."

"Watch Charlie die or...submit...to him, everything." He's silent but the blood boils in him. I can feel it. I rush to say, "It wasn't all bad. He had his moments. That night, he damn well regretted it. Give him hell, right?" I smirk. He doesn't. I sober.

"Charlie's alive. So you chose to _submit,_" he says it like its sin. "Why?"

I sigh. I drop the photo on the table. "Edward..."

He pulls my chin to look at him. "Tell me," he growls. His hold gentle but firm. I can't look away when he looks this desperate.

"It's a long story."

"Bella."

I take a breath. "When I woke up...after you were gone...I was determined to finish Charlie. I woke in the same facility where you found Whitlock." His temples tighten with a hard clamp of his jaw. I touch his forearm. He doesn't seem to calm.

"They had already taken the key out. Charlie came in and he...gave me the tusk from your necklace. He apologized. I went...nuts."

I feel his hand slip under mine. He holds on for dear life.

"Then Aro came and promised me so many things. He even gave me your guns. Said they were mine if I wanted them. So I shot Charlie. Not serious enough to kill him, unfortunately." I chuckle humorlessly, running my hand through my hair.

Edward looks at me. His expression laced with pride. "That's too bad," he says. I nod.

"Aro promised me that with time I would get my vengeance. That he would let me finish him. Completely. But it wasn't the moment. I was delirious and in pain. I let him take Charlie away.

"The night Aro gave me the choice. I reminded him. Charlie was mine to kill, not his. So he let him go. One thing Aro is, a man of his word."

"It couldn't have been that easy, Bella."

"You're right. It wasn't. But I threatened him. Told him I had eyes who watched his sleep. I wasn't thinking. I was afraid for Paul."

"Paul?" He looks confused.

"Like I said, it wasn't all bad. I made friends too. He's...nothing like Jake. Annoying at times but he helped." I grin.

"How?"

I sigh. "That is a whole other story. I was afraid he'd confront Aro. But that night, we were all surprised. The army went against Aro. They all stepped forward. They were all moles. It was...the most relief I felt in my life. They even helped me get Charlie out of there."

"You forgave him." He says bitterly.

I shake my head. "The longest night of my life trying to keep him alive. But forgive him? Not quite. At least not today. But then, a year was taken from me, why waste more of it with hate I can't do anything with?"

Edward looks at me with awe. Or maybe like I'm insane. He kisses my hand and his lips linger. Warmth.

"Where is he now?" he asks as he runs his fingers over my hand.

I explain how hurt Charlie was. How they sent him to a hospital in an unknown location. I don't want Aro going after him again.

"I don't know what to do," I confess. "I need to ask him so many things but, the second key. We need to ask Carlisle. Too many are after it. We're running out of time."

"What second key?" Rosalie walks in. Edward and I look over our shoulder. "Oh good, you're not naked." Edward's jaw goes sharp.

I turn to look at both of them, ignoring her. "You don't know?" Their faces blank. "God." I hold my head. "Of course Carlisle wouldn't tell you. Listen...the Berry is failing them. The second key is what they're all after now. They were using me as bait."

Edward stands. He finishes taking out the last photo out of a frame and stuffs it all in his bag. "Let's go," he says grabbing my jacket and the gun. "We'll worry about Charlie later."

—•—•

The jeep takes us far. The trembling engine beneath us keeps us from sitting still. My eyes close one to many times. Edward catches my bobbing head on a shoulder even after I fight sleep. I give in. He stays close. I can feel him in my dreamless sleep. This has never felt so much like home. But I'm tired. We all are.

Dawn is peeking over the horizon as we head south. I don't know where our destination is but I trust these two with my life. I feel it. I've let go of a huge burden off my shoulders I didn't know I possessed. For the first time, I have people who take care of me.

"Bella." In my unconsciousness I can hear him, but sleep is so deep, I want to dwell in it and not wake up for days. "Bella, wake up." I feel warm lips on my lids and cheek. My eyes snap open. I gasp.

Blue, red, white lights dance over forested trees and a dark, glistening road. Rosalie has nowhere to go but follow the road towards border patrols.

Edward digs through the duffle and takes out our documents. He passes them to her as she halts to a stop. A man in uniform stands by the front staring. He casually looks the truck over as he walks around to the drivers door. My heart hammers with his every step.

"Ma'am, your headlights are out. Is there a reason?" He asks with a thump of his boot on the grill.

"I've had a mishap, sir. I was hoping to bother a fella for some help."

He grunts. But when he turns to look inside the drivers seat he stops. His chest puffs up. A smirk pulls at his mustache covered lip. "Is that so?"

Rose leans over the door with elbows. Just enough to give him a good show. "That so."

"Identification," he says. Rose hands him hers, or attempts to but pulls it back. He leans forward to reach it. She giggles when he snaps it out of her grasp. The red over his cheeks is vivid even in the dark. He clears his throat.

"Identification for those two, please." He says without looking up. Rose hands them over my passport and Edward's. He stares at her fierce before he reaches and pulls.

"What brings you to Canada?"

"Fieldtrip. Wanted to see the falls from the other side. They say the view is always...bigger from here," she answers slyly. The man shuffles his feet.

He focuses on the passports, shifting them each in his hands. His brows knit. He looks up at me. Then at Rose. Her smile intact. He shifts the passports again.

"I...need to run these into my system, excuse me." He walks away.

I look at Edward and he already knows. They recognize me.

Rose jumps out and follows the patroller. "Rose," Edward hisses. But there's no stopping her. She's off to get the documents back. "Fuck," he says, jumping into the drivers seat.

Other patrollers are leaning on their cars chatting. None are looking our way. Another car pulls up and a man in uniform walks up to its window. They're all occupied.

Rose is not in sight. My heart pounds. "Where is she?" Edward doesn't respond. But he pulls out a gun. This won't end well.

A booth in front of the truck encases an office inside. The windows are on either side where we can't see what's moving in them. Shadows on the pavement are the only proof she's in there.

Edward pulls on the shift to reverse. The truck jumps slightly. It's ready to bolt when the booth rattles. A loud bang. Out comes Rose running. The other uniformed men look up. They run.

"Move, Rose!" Edward cries. She jumps in and the shots fly. Edward looks over his shoulder and peels out. He turns back into a curb. He pulls the shift to drive off.

The dark vehicle at our side squeals its wheels. It backs up right into us. I scream. We're all wide eyes. The truck pivots to the left with the force. Rose almost climbs the console trying to keep from the deep dent crushing her legs.

We all look into the dark tinted windows. Fire. One shot and we all duck. "It's them," Rose grits.

Patrollers are watching just as startled. The unknown car is a sudden threat. They shout and aim. Guns out and firing.

Edward rams the gas. The enormity of the metal beneath us drags the black car. The rear end whirls out of the way, screeching on pavement. We're free and rushing down the road.

I turn to look and _God...what is this? _The car is catching up. It's motor strong and roaring. The classic model is shiny and menacing. I can't see who's inside.

I yelp. I'm thrown. We're hit from the back.

"Hold on!" Edward calls. But Rose is already turning with a gun. Hers. She fires.

I scramble between her seat and over the console. I skim a hand over Edward's chest. _Where is it?_ My fumbling hand bumps into his and he guides me inside his jacket. A gun halter I didn't notice him wearing holds the other chrome gun. I pull it out.

The car has caught up to my side. It bangs into us. I almost lose my seat. Spark of fire shoots up between metal. It does it again. I lay low and aim over the back opening. I shoot. The glass breaks. The car swivels. Edward pushes forward, faster.

Rose makes a noise, she's looking behind us. I follow her gaze. Sirens wail from afar. More will come. I turn back to this car and try to focus. The black coat covering his arms and neck is familiar. I shoot again. Five times. One the sixth, his wheels turn right. At the same time, Edward turns into him with a bang. Metal connects. The car pivots. A tree.

We're free.

I look back at the upturned car, crushed in the center, head on. But this is one down. Millions it seems, millions left to go.

"This way," Rose leads the way through the woods. I watch behind Edward's seat where he tensely maneuvers us down another road. This time he turns into an unpaved road.

I look at both of them in front of me. They're composed and focused. Made from the same mold. I'm panting in my seat, a mess of fear and undoing. The sirens stay far behind. Edward turns off the battery headlight. He screeches to a halt. The engine dies. His strong hand is over my head and pushing me down. His face by mine. I breathe him in and it's calm. Dark.

Sirens are just as loud as my pounding heart. So close when they pass us by. My ears ring as they descend, but I breathe again.

Edward looks out. He takes a heavy breath telling us, "Those weren't cops." I pull myself up and look, catching a glimpse of the rear of a black SUV. Black coats in many vehicles disguised as the law.

"Emmett told me this was an unmonitored border." Rose curses, "I'm going to kill him!"

Edward turns the engine on and moves farther into the woods. "Then we have to..."

Rose shakes her head, interrupting, "Absolutely not. We won't make it."

"There's no other choice!" Edward yells. Rose looks behind her. Her face ashen. If she's worried then I know this isn't good.

"Please tell me there's a plan B," I say.

Rose looks at me and rolls her eyes. "Insulting. Ridiculous, even."

"Ok, then, what is it?" They don't answer. My stomach plummets. "We can't fly, they'll find us, won't they?" But there's no use in trying to ask. Edward shoots Rose a quick glance and he's red with fury.

"You're done. I'm taking over this operation," Edward seethes her way.

Roses teeth gleam with a snarl. "Me, right? All me. But _you _had to leave in a hurry to get her. I could've coaxed Carlisle for more help if you'd given me more time. So much for a grand escape!" Edward stays silent.

"Unbelievable." I slump back on my seat. My hands find my face. "We're never getting out of here, are we? God, this is just...we're dead," I say panicking. "We're done. It's over. Let's just go and find a fucking plane and hijack it. Easy. Fucking piece of cake!"

"Bella!" Edward shouts. The truck halts to a stop. I start. I cover my mouth. Rose is quiet in her seat. Silence envelops us and only forest noises fill our ringing ears. My throat is a ball. Edward takes a heaving breath. His hand lifts slightly off the wheel in apology. But It balls into a fist. The stirring wheel rattles under it defenselessly with a bang.

"Tell me again..." he sighs. His baritone voice still and rich. But it sends a chill down my spine. "How close are you to your _friend_ Paul?"

I swallow thickly. My lips seems to be stuck. I can't answer. The way he says it like it angers him. Why is he bringing this up...now?

"Tell me." He insist through gritted teeth. His eyes fire through the reflection on the rear view mirror.

"I...I don't...why?"

"I hope you remember his number because he's getting us a plane."

"What? Who's plane?" Rose looks at him with the same questions. He pulls on the shift and drives. The truck climbs rocks and we're on a paved road again.

"Aro's," he says. And I die a little inside.

—•—•

The line comes to life. It rings.

My throat grows a knot just listening to him answer. "Paul," I say. It's all it takes. He asks me every question that has been eating at him. "Just listen," I plead. "I need your help."

"Anything."

I take a breath and then I can't speak. "Bella, where are you? I've been going insane."

"Are you still...with him?" I ask. He sighs.

"It's not what you think," he says as a way to explain. "I wanted...to make sure you were safe. But you were gone. Where are you? If it's Toshiro...I'll kill him."

"I already did."

"You...what?"

"We need to get out of here. Please, I need your help...just one last time."

"Who's we? Bella, tell me where you are. I'll come get you," he pleads.

I feel Edward's hand on mine before I look up. He pulls the satellite phone out of my hand. He turns his back and talks sternly but quietly. Not even a minute later he hangs up. I stare at him waiting.

"We have to meet him at the compound. Only way we'll get to the airplane."

Back to the same place Aro had me hidden? "No," I argue. "No way in hell." He doesn't look at me. Without a word, he's jumping into the truck and pulling out of a wall of rock we were hiding by.

I slump in the back seat. I wait but his response never comes. I don't speak the entire bumpy way. We all don't. No broad shoulder to lean on and sleep. My nerves a mess and wanting to jump out of the truck and learn to fly. A sudden necessity in my bones. To flee. How dare he? Edward drives towards our enemy.

The compound is visible from far. The plane tucked away where I remember it always idles.

"Where?" Rose speaks. He motions before us.

"We wait in the woods." He turns onto grass. The truck jostles and were provided with darkness to conceal us. The horizon still birthing the sun.

I look frantically around the compound. It is quiet and still. But I see that window from here. My stomach turns to know so much has happened through that glass.

"Listen to me, both of you," Edward says, "When I say run you leave all plans behind and _run_. I need you both alive. No risks. Understood?" I look away not wanting to be apart of this. Anger settles in me like a comfortable cloak. The irony of this weighs. Rose rolls her eyes and doesn't respond to his orders but I know she listens. There's death in his seriousness.

Edward jumps out and turns to me. His hand open, beckoning me to go to him.

I look from his hands to his eyes and back again. He insist, reaching under my arms. He pulls me like I weigh nothing under his strength. And I let him. How could I not? It's not in me to reject him. I stand and he catches me when I step off the wheel I use as a step. His face is buried in my neck in no time. We don't speak for a long moment in his large locked arms. I sigh.

"You're angry, but It's the only way," he murmurs. I nod into his shoulder that has broadened since I last held him so long ago—and over it, I see a field of greens. The sky is painted in midnight ink. My lids heavy were they seem to fall every time he holds me.

I blink and my blurred vision sharpens. A figure at the window where I stood hours ago, wishing on an eye in the clouds, stands there. I know it's him. The dim light behind curtains framing the glass. His shoulders squared, long legs. His posture of despair. His army trying to find me and I'm watching him.

I'm not there. I'm here...where I've longed to be for so long. But just the reminder, the feel of him and it all crawls my skin. I want to run away. The tension spreads through my limbs and Edward takes notice. He turns to see what I see. His fists balled at my waist. He turns to block the sight from my watery eyes. "I'm here," Edward assures me with lips on my brow.

Propellers chop into the air, spinning, killing silence. The hum of an engine coming to life. We look up. I straighten in his embrace. The mirage of heat on pavement is a ghost under the plane. Everything that was quiet is disturbed with a rumbling.

"Your ride is leaving," Rose says from behind us. The satellite phone on her ear. "Ready," she speaks to Paul.

We jump in to join her. Edward turns the engine on and chases down a runway. It is wide and spacious. A field of pavement with perfect lines leading us home.

My nerves, bullets, ricocheting in my muscles with every throttle of the engine beneath us.

Aro. His form pensive, still standing tall by the window. I cut my eyes to his shadow and then the plane. His plane...that will now be ours.

His shadow moves. It's inevitable. He sees and he runs. Fire will fly and we are the target. I look again and he's gone. A whirl of chaos from inside burst through doors to the outside. Men in black and guns.

"Edward!" I call. But he doesn't have to see. His shoulders tense, moving with every turn to get closer. The ride is steady on smooth pavement.

Rose's hand is gripping the satellite phone. She yells into it, "Go!" The plane begins to move. I grip the seat in front of me, watching the massive wheels rolling, the flaps closing to accelerate. _How will we get in?_

I look back and the army is relentless. Suddenly the field of greens is black. Running men, aiming at us. They shoot. Bullets fly.

I hide. My hands scrambling to find the chrome gun I dropped. I cock it.

The moment I turn to aim, I stop. Riley. He's still with them. He's eyes like magnets. He blinks and his mouth gapes when he sees me. His steps slow from his sprint. The rifle in his arm dips.

_Yes, it's me. _I want to yell for him to move. To get back. I don't want to hurt him. He turns to men beside him. He shouts words. They, too, slow looking closely. Others turn to see why some have slowed and do the same.

The plane has accelerated substantially. Edward's hair billows and Rose's clothes flaps with the force of speed where she stands. She balances on the console and climbs the dashboard. The light fell over. Shattered on pavement long ago.

"Closer!" she yells. Edward maneuvers at full speed down the runway. A metal staircase, pushed out to accept us. But it's jostling. The speed making it weak and unsteady. Rose is mere feet from it. She tosses the duffle bag and its in. She's crouching. Ready.

I turn back to the crowd behind us, far but I see. The army parts like a sea. They look back at their leader. Aro is running. His face red. Fury in the snarl of his lips. His tie over his shoulder, drifting in the wind.

"Stop them!" he orders. He sees some soldiers aren't moving. Others are faithful, aiming and running. Guns firing. A black SUV is charging closer.

Just seeing him makes my chest cave. More so when he finds my eyes. I hide.

Rose jumps. Her feet almost hitting the speeding ground. My heart rams into my throat. Her arms bulge and she catches a step. She's up.

A spark hits the ladder. Edward ducks. The truck pivoting. Rose crouches in time. I yelp. Edward shouts my name. His eyes turning to see me unharmed. "C'mon!" he orders. His hand reaching back to me. I climb the console. My legs shake. My grip on his hand is vise.

_How do I do this? _I look around for something to hold on to. I'm over Edwards shoulder between the seats. He looks up. I'm already shaking my head. "You're ok," he says, but I can't. This is too much.

Another bullet makes the truck skid. He lets go to stabilize the wheel. I fly over the dashboard. My shoulder crashing into the windshield. "Bella!" His voice frantic. He pulls me to the passenger seat. I scramble to find my bearings. He pulls the stray hair away from my face.

"I'm ok." I assure him. But I'm not. This is terrifying and I don't want to do this anymore.

"Just a bit more. We're almost there," he says. He knows me so well. His words and hands bring me strength. I nod, not sure its a reassuring gesture but I try. I stand. I mimic Rose's climbing steps and hold on to the top of the windshield. I look back. And I shouldn**'**t have.

Aro has stopped running. He pulls a gun out of a soldier's grasp. He shoots. I freeze. The windshield breaks under my palm. I flinch my hand away. I stare, wide spheres, at the proximity. His aim too close.

"Marie!" he screams. But he's so far now, I barely hear him. A muffle in my ears. He means nothing like the distance growing between us. Separating us. And I'm free from him. Forever.

With this anger in me, I jump. Bravery pushes me off and I'm in Roses' grasp. She grunts. We climb a few steps to keep safe. But my heart plummets.

_What about Edward?_ I reach with palms for him. _ I will not lose him. _

He looks at the black SUV. It slams into the truck."Edward!" I scream for him. I regret leaving him. Rose pulls me, preventing me from jumping back. I call him again and he's fighting. The veins of his forehead and neck erect.

Rose is shooting. The SUV swivels. She shoots and shoots until the rounds end. The gun locks. She pulls out another and aims again. Without a thought I take the empty gun from her other hand. I crouch on a step to find balance. I grope her pocket to find ammo. I look up and the SUV is vicious.

We jolt and I gasp. The plane threatens to lift.

"No!" I scream. I run up the stairs, banging into walls, finding my grip on anything I find. I scream at the top of my lungs. "Paul, wait! Not yet!" and I see his shoulder. His ears covered in headphones speaking orders into a microphone. He looks back at me.

"I'm running out of space!" he yells back. Fear like I've never felt in my life sets in my heart. Edward is still out there. I look out and the SUV is persistent. Rose still shooting. The side of the black doors are decorated in bullet holes. I stumble on the duffle bag trying get closer. I look down.

Anger.

I slip the bag open. The rifle. My hands fumbling with the heavy handle, lifting the large barrel. I see the latch. I remember Edward's hands. I cock it. Fuck this. I'm not letting them steal my fate again. I anchor my shoulder to the threshold of the door. The stairs bouncing below me. It's too mobile for what I need. My aim clear and steady under my chin, against my shoulder.

BANG. One shot. It pulls me back with the strength. The wheels squeal and it's all the assurance I need. The crash is loud and heavy. It's on its side and skids away. The tire I shot is a mess of split rubber. I owe my life to this solid luck. It didn't fail on a motorcycle with Edward once. It never fails me now.

I hurry down the steps and reach for Edward. He pulls a long branch we found in the woods and keeps the gas pedal from slowing. He stands and crouches on the dashboard.

The plane hops once.

Rose and I scramble to hold on. "Edward! Please!" I yell. My palm reaching but still empty. He looks back at the army far away. And another van approaches. This time, Aro is in it. He's standing on the ledge behind an open door. His arms a bulge. His features a terror. The snarl over his mouth and brows knitted. He's yelling my alias.

But I'm not her anymore. I never was. This is me. Reaching for the man I love where I belong. Where I'm meant to be. But Aro's getting closer. His gunshots endless. Sparks fly against metal and pavement.

I look at Edward and its desperation in my every limb and bones. "Damn it, jump! Right now!" I order him. His eyes find mine. The determined look in his jades and sharp jaw. He's mine. And forever will be. I can't and won't ever let him go.

He leaps. Like the strength of a thousand whirling winds surging through me, I pull him. He grunts. His feet hang and he's red and straining, pulling his weight. His shoulders flex and I can't get a grip.

I gasp. The boot on his foot scrapes the ground. It threatens to pull him under, but the plane is lifting. And with it I pull him. I grab a hold of his arm. His feet catches the step. I heave in relief.

Instantly, he lifts me to my feet and pushes me up the stairs. The pops of bullets are at our feet and over our heads. But we're off. The pull of gravity is fierce. I'm crushed to the railing with force as the plane ascends. I whimper.

I only see Rose standing inside, reaching for my hand. But she's blurred. Everything. Too fast. I can't let go. Edward is around my arm and I won't.

_God, please..._

The stairs lifts and it's closing, pushing us further in. But the weight against my chest is like a ton of bricks, slamming into me. Edward is pressed to my side, head down, fighting gravity, too. The ground only a few feet away but the force is deafening. We won't make it.

Never have I felt this weak. I feel myself slipping. Maybe this is it. This is how I'll go. I squeeze my love's hand and my life is in his hands and behind my lids. Like a movie. Of him and me and my mother. All in seconds. This is how it feels like to know. To accept it. Death on my fingertips.

Roses' shouts are far and the stairs are breaking. Metal folding and bending. Bolts releasing and flying. The plane continues to lift.

Then I hear it. The roar behind me. Edward pushes me with the strength only a desperate man can possess. I'm airborne. For an instant all I see is terror in Roses' eyes. Then nothing.

We're tumbling and rolling. Weight on top of me and a wall against my back. A crash. Everything goes black.

"Bella!" I blink. My lids heavy. I hear Edward. His hands framing my face. He shakes me. I try to lift my arms to reach him. My eyelids flutter and red. All over me.

"Oh God..." I whimper. I sip up and heave. Edward's hands are frantic. His face distorted. His lashes wet. The green of his eyes swimming in tears that haven't escaped. He pulls my jacket open. Fabric ripping as he looks for the source of this crimson._ Where?_ I move my arms, my legs. I feel no pain. "It's you," I tell him. His eyes find mine and its like he doesn't hear me. He's far away.

Rose is standing above us and she's pulling on his arm. The door to the plane sealed shut. We made it but there's blood. "Edward, stop," Rose calls. He doesn't. He searches my body aimlessly.

I grab his wrists to shake him. His jacket is red over his shoulder. I bring my hands to him and he finally looks. I pull on buttons and zippers until I get to his skin. His chest is soaked and I whimper. "Shit."

"Is anyone hurt?" Paul asks, shouting from across the aisle. His voice desperate. He leans over the pilot chair looking back.

"Paul, the medic box!" I call. He points to the slim door to our left. Rose steps over us to reach it. Edward is eerily quiet. I turn to him and crawl closer to his side. He watches his wounded shoulder and says nothing. "Hey," I whisper, touching his cheek. He looks up. I swipe a palm over it, chasing a tear. "It's fine. You're ok." He shakes his head. I watch his lips forming a grin. I stare.

Rose is pressing gaze pads onto his shoulder. She watches him with knit brows. And then he chuckles. His head falls back against the wall. His breathing labored. He whispers, "We made it and I thought you were dead." He looks at me. His fingers running over my face as another tear pours down his face. His hand suddenly grabs my shirt and pulls me. He kisses me. I give in and my muscles relax. I pull on his lips and smother him with kisses all over. He pulls me over his lap. I hug his neck.

Rose sighs. She drops the soaked fabric in her hands and stands. "They're fine," she tells Paul. I can hear the roll of her eyes in her voice. She plops on a plush chair.

I smile because we are.

—•—•—••

**A/N Thanks again. If its any consolation, I'm already writing 29. I will and have to finish this puppy. Thanks for your unending patience in this unending...ending. hah. **

**Reviews help me write faster.**


	30. Chapter 29: Black

**A/N Happy fourth! And happy normal day for the rest. Like Rob said once, he sacrifices an american on american holidays. Chain and bolts sounds more like it. **

**NOT BETA'D. Sorry. If you find mistakes, bear with me. Not much but I'll leave this here to move forward. Better things coming.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — Red, White and Blue.**

—•—•—•

_**Sound: xxyyxx - About you**_

—•—•—•

**Chapter 29 - Black**

I cringe. My nails dig into my palms. Like knife in raw skin, tearing, pulling poison out, I watch as Edward's fingers dig into his wound, searching for the bullet. As if watching him use scissors, looped through his thumb and finger, twice, failing every time, wasn't bad enough.

'Shhhit," I hiss. He sighs. His teeth were clamped in a snarl. Pain. His fingers red, stained. Out. He drops the metal in my palm. It skids around, spreading red. "My legs...urgh my legs hurt just watching." He pushes a laugh through his nose as I stomp a foot.

"I'm so sorry," I tell him. He dabs a gauze on his chest. He looks at me through lashes. And then my legs hurt in a different way.

He's even more beautiful. I swear it. He's grown and I've grown. But him, literally. His shoulders set like mounds over his collar bones so strong yet humble. His arms, his chest has filled. Nimble fingers, stained, calloused, take care of his wound so perfectly. How many times has he done this? To survive, to keep going. He never stops. I don't think he's ever taken a deep breath and just stared at a wall.

But it isn't so. I know. _Edward was a mess without me. _I can't fathom it. What was it like for him? I wonder. Watching him dip his palms in water, pink draining through this small sink. Drips of cleansing water, falling over his chest, tracing a scar so precisely.

I wonder, but I know. Or I've felt the same. The pain of losing him. I, a mess, too.

I grab a towel. The one with the embroidered emblem on it, 'A' for Aro, and whip the drops away. Or I'll lean in, tempted, i'll catch them with these lips I'm digging my teeth into. His skin is mine. His wound is mine. His lips and everything. I'd consume him completely. But all I do, for now, is help him. A towel over his neck and down his peck. He looks into the mirror as we work together. His eyes find mine through the reflection.

Don't we just make that couple we see look so together. They look worn but complete. Every rise of our chest of relief and maybe not completely happy, but getting there.

He catches my fingers with his and its like sparks up my legs to in between. I can barely breathe. I shy away from those eyes and try to smile, hoping the young crushing love doesn't show as much in my nervous hands. I grab gauze and tape and seal his wound shut. His eyes locked to my face, on fire, all the while. Trickling warm breath down my neck. He doesn't say a single word to break this tension he creates. I will suffocate.

The tape seals all edges and he's done. Like Aro's shots never touched him. I hesitate, lingering, making these edges just right. I lean in and a peck right beside the tape. "Like new," I say. And there it is. I knew that would make him hold his breath. I feel his heart quicken under my hand. He watches me still.

I stand on toes and comb my fingers through his hair just to keep my hands moving. I love every strand. The thickness and random locks of red. He dips so I can reach. But I wasn't ready for his intention. He lifts me. My heart slams in my chest and so does my butt on the sink.

He presses his hips between and my palms move down to his cheeks. No dancing around the want, the yearning. He dives right into my lips. Not a second of hesitation. And I'm a desperate woman of sighs and moaning. Yes. His hair now a mess.

His tongue demanding and the closeness of his chest. My head bags on the mirror and his teeth are on my neck. It could be here. I could spread wider and let it happen here. I'd do anything. With these lips on me surging heat. Fuck, I'd give in. Rose, Paul and problems outside be damned. I want him.

His hand curves into my collar and pulls on fabric. No bra to hold him back. I whimper so loudly with his mouth around my breast. I can barely watch without crumbling. His lips on mine again.

I hate Rose. I hate every bone in her body when there's a bang at the door. Just once. Just when I'm locking my legs around him to feel him.

"Really?" She seethes from behind the door. "It's not like we haven't stolen a plane or anything!"

I sigh. Slouching. He buries his face on my shoulder. "Stay like this...just for a sec...don't move," he mutters.

I chuckle, looking down at myself. "Why?"

"Because I'm going to strangle her. I'll be quick." He slams the door open. I catch his wrist before he steps out and laugh. I don't think he was being funny either. He's never one to joke.

"Put your shirt on first. Then you can strangle her." I stand and he goes to right my clothes and pulls back on my hair. But not before he sees something. Something that makes him stop. His eyes on my skin and there's enough light in here to see what Aro once did. I panic. I pull on the shirt and right it myself. Not now, not ever.

His lips white and pale. He's angry in seconds. Just a second ago we were happy. I pretend he saw nothing.

I bundle a clean shirt in my hands and pull it through his bad arm first. My brows knit watching him hiss in pain.

This one is my favorite. The buttons open at his neck and the thermal sleeves are warm. I remember when he wore a black shirt just like this once. I was trying to escape the lab. Now I yearn to be back.

"You need a good swim in the dark pool and you'll be new again." I look up at him, smoothing his shirt in place. He's everything but calm now, watching me. I smile. "I missed it there. So badly. Can't believe I ever tried to escape. I was a fool."

He reaches for my collar but I catch his hand and kiss it. He just stares. I continue like it was just affection. My smile widens. "I dreamed of it...so many nights." I shake my head. And then the smile breaks. I try to compose myself. Stupid tears will not fall. I won't let them. I hug him instead.

"Now you can go kill her." I push him out the door before he says anything. His face is crumbled, watching me from the other side of the threshold. "Go." I nudge him. He turns away, head down. I don't want him to ever feel at fault. I wonder how many moments like these will come, where I have to bring him at ease. We're broken for all eternity it seems. This was too much not to forget.

He passes by Rosalie to get to the cockpit and if looks could kill she'd be gasping her last breath. I can't help but chuckle when she just smiles at him. Nemesis who work together.

I sit beside her. "Tell me everything." The magazine in her hand dips. She's prepping her guns after a battle. Edward's back is to me and I finally have a chance at pulling things out of her. Though she's not friendly for chatter.

"What is there else to say? It was fucking hell."

"Well you can say in what ways was it hell."

She sighs. "Like what? How he was almost dead when we found him on the shore of a river, bullet holes like swiss cheese? How it took him months to recuperate and almost died on Alice twice? Things like that?"

I stare at her. She looks up when I don't respond. "You weren't the only one who had a fucked up year."

I swallow a lump. "How? How did you find him?" I ask.

"The guns. Which by the way have been stripped. No tracker anymore. That was a story in itself. He almost went insane when he found out. No way to get to his Bella if you were alive at all."

"Insane how?"

"Remember your first day at the lab?" she asks. I nod. "That was an understatement. Alice had to stitch up wounds again...and walls."

I sigh. "I didn't know...about the tracker missing. They looked untouched. I tried...so hard to let someone know. To find you guys."

She rests the gun on a table in front of her. Her expression forgiving. "I know."

I look to see Edward slipping into an easy conversation with Paul. I have time. "Then what?" I insist.

She shrugs. "Then you had a tombstone with your name on it. It took Emmett, Jasper even Carlisle to stop him from ripping wires and stitches to get to the cemetery. He was inclined to kill everyone. It was everyone's fault. Especially Charlie's." Her eyes seem far away. She doesn't blink with the memory behind her drying eyes. And I yearn to see what she sees. So badly.

"I've never seen him so...broken," she whispers. "He's always been the strong one." Her eyes shift to the window at the passing clouds. "Fuck, even I cried."

My arms are folded over my middle. Nothing seems to hold me together listening to this, even a tear slips. I swipe it away quickly. "But...how? How did he...cope?"

She shakes her head. "He didn't. He just...existed. He got his strength back and focused on that. Carlisle assured him, all of us, Aro's destruction. It fueled him everyday."

"Is Carlisle...is he well?" I ask. Knowing how insane I've witnessed him, in his very lowest.

"You'll be the judge of that I guess." I nod.

I look at the men at the front of the plane. Edward helps Paul with buttons he can't reach. I hope he's being...cordial, at least.

"Then what?" I ask again.

"Then I'm hungry," she says and stands. "Is there anything in here to grub?" She says loud enough for Paul to hear. I roll eyes and stand to follow her as she mumbles about running out of fuel.

She's banging on cabinets in the luxury kitchen area. This is definitely not a commercial plane.

The glasses clink as she moves things. There's a sink and mini bar, which she finds quickly. She opens a bottle with ebony liquid in it and sniffs. One swig. She's pretty in a long braid even when she's not very lady like. I wonder where she came from. If she had family and how did Carlisle save her.

I reach under the island separating the sitting area from the kitchen and slide doors to reveal stored snacks. She pulls out bags of gourmet food and begins to munch on them.

"You're welcome," I mutter and grab a bag of chips with sea salt. She gives me a look with a mouth full.

"How were you initiated into the Carlisle Unit?" I ask. I slip a chip in my mouth. I should see if Edward wants some.

Rose snorts, "Initiated."

"Well...you never said where you came from. Neither did Emmett." I watch her jump on the island to sit with the bourbon nestled between her knees.

"Same story, I guess. My mom was a drunk. My dad left when I was young. I joined the military to be cared for. My cell block was two feet from Edward's when Carlisle unlocked the doors. Women and men together. Only difference was men weren't _probed_ or _used _quite the same as women," she insinuates. _Damn. _Horrible life. I complain about mine. She continues, "I followed Edward out the door and just kept following. He was always the quiet one on the floor. I always wondered why. I guessed he'd know the best way out."

"And Emmett?"

"He...on the other hand, was a guard at the lab. His job was to make rounds. Everyone had to be accounted for at all times." She stops and the food in her hand is forgotten. She takes a sip of the bottle. Her eyes remembering again.

"But how did he end up with all of you? Wasn't he...one of them?"

"He was once like us, but I don't know what changed. Maybe because he's such an evil bastard they trusted him. But the day he beat a man's head through a wall for touching me, the tenth time that week, I knew...there was something there."

"And then he followed Carlisle, too."

"No." She shakes her head. "He followed me."

I can't help a grin. I try to hide it with a bite of a chip. I watch her think. And I know it's about him. But her shoulders sag and I know. Their relationship is still as tense as I remembered. And she loves him. Plain as day.

I feel Edward's gaze from far away. I take a cup of fruit from the mini fridge and a water. I head his way and he watches from his co-pilot chair. His spine straightens as I get closer. His eyes roam from my head to toes. I wonder if he wants me close as much as I do.

I lean on the threshold and Paul looks up at me. I smile. I've missed him. Without a word I wrap an arm around his neck and hug his big head. "Thank you," I whisper to him. He just nods. His hand is on my arm and this is odd. Like a switch, we're kind to one another and we survived Aro. I kiss his cheek. A smirk too smug for his own good shows on his lips.

I lift a finger. "Once. Never again."

His face falls. "I see how it is."

I pull away and lean on Edward's leg. He quickly pulls me and I'm on his lap. Surprised, I feel mushy inside. _He does want me close. _

I pick at a chunk of pineapple and bring it to his lips. He shakes his head. He pushes the fork towards me. "Eat," I order him. His fingers dig into my sides, he roams my ribs. I sigh. I know what he's trying to say. So I take the bite and chew. He watches me. I lift a brow and another piece towards him. "You have to eat."

He gives in. He chews. I love when he chews. I watch, barely noticing him reach for the fork and continues on his own. I can watch for hours. Maybe catch his lips between bites sometimes. But I don't, not yet. I pick up a strawberry with my fingers when he's not stabbing another.

Paul makes a sound. I look up. My face heats up. I catch him shaking his head slightly as he looks away. "Bella and the Red Ribbon killer. Never in a million years..."

"Shut up, Paul." I don't know how he does it, but he angers me with one word. I'm so embarrassed I can't look at Edward.

He doesn't stop either. "What's with the ribbon anyway? Does it mean anything?" Paul asks.

I want to pound his head. Edward ignores him. He leans in and slips my fingers in his mouth. The strawberry gone. Fireworks up my arm. He just looks up at Paul, a glare, and looks away.

Then I realize. My lips part with the audacity. I look at Edward. He blinks. His lips close over the fork and he chews without a care in the world. I look at Paul and his jaw flexes. Angry.

I look at myself sitting on Edward's lap. The closeness. His hands. Edward is marking his territory for Paul to see. My eyes narrow when I look back at him.

I try to stand. He keeps me still with a hard tug. "Open this for me?" he asks quietly, pointing at the water bottle. Speechless, I crack the cap.

I wonder what they were really talking about.

Edward drinks and I can't even enjoy watching him as I stare across from me. Paul reaches for a button at the center of the console and cuts his eyes towards me. I know what he's thinking. My stomach is heavy. I want to throw up everything I ate. I want to yell at him. To tell him never to tell. Not about Aro. Not about anything that went down. He knows too much.

But when he leans back, I see it. I relax when he grins sadly. _I'm just trying to be happy. _I want to tell him. I think he knows me well enough to understand. He just feels protective, even from Edward.

I rise from where I sit. Edward stops chewing. "Do you want anything, Paul? Water? A snack?" He looks up surprised. After a moment he nods.

I find Rose with her eyes closed. Everything on the counter left open and forgotten. She sits at her chair and is quiet. I know she's still awake. I hope I didn't cause her sudden despair.

I grab what I need from the fridge and slip back into the bathroom for the first aid kit. By the time I'm back, shit is tense at the cockpit. The container is empty with a lonely fork in it on the console. Edward holds the water in his hand still. He looks at me then looks out to the sky dejected.

I give Paul his share of refreshments and sit on a firm lap again. "Here. Take these." I open Edward's palm and drop four painkillers in the shape of small pills. He gives them back. "You must be in pain. Take them." I hold out my hand. I notice his are shaking and I know he's in pain. "Please."

Silent treatment already and we just got back together. He's so stubborn. He looks away towards clouds, watching nothing. Anything rather than look at me. I want to stuff them into his sexy mouth or hit him.

Paul chuckles from his corner and smiles when I look at him. His mouth moves and I read his lips, "So cute," he mockingly says. Such an asshole. As helpful as he's been, he is what he is—a person who annoys the hell out of me.

Edward seethes and I feel him holding back from pushing me off his lap to hurt him.

So I stuff the pills in my mouth. Edward's lips part, watching, shocked when I kiss him. Easy slip. He never would've fought it. Our lips slip soundly. I open the bottle and bring it close to his face. He silently seethes at my dare, livid. He snatches the bottle and takes a swig. "Thank you," I tell him. He swallows.

I stand and leave their pissing game to themselves. But not before I punch Paul's shoulder as I pass. He laughs. I sit by Rose and I close my eyes.

My feeling is this plane ride will be the longest in history.

—•—•—•

I wake up and Paul is speaking. My head banging, dizzy and everything is silent but him. His voice elevates. The tone not meant for a conversation. He's talking through the headset with gibberish I can't understand. I try to turn and Edward's nose is close. His arm around my waist. He slipped beside me on the wide chair while I slept. His shoulder unharmed, but the other found its way under my cheek. His eyes are closed. He sleeps but restlessly.

The light outside the window is bright. It's morning. Finally the sun shines. But trouble is near. I feel it. I hear Paul pushing buttons. His arm appearing to lean on the console. He sounds angry.

I sit up and Edward's eyes pop open. They're red and bloodshot tired. Only a couple of hours must've passed. He looks over at Paul and he's quickly at his side.

"What is it?" he asks.

Paul shakes his head. "They're not confirming our landing. Every tower I tap into declines," he complains. My heart picks up. I stand behind Edward. He's watching the top of the clouds. He's worried.

I start. Paul bangs a fist on the console. "Fucking Aro."

"Where do we go now? We can't fly around forever," I say.

Edward steps back in the living area to call Rosalie.

"He won't stop will he?" I ask Paul.

"Nicholai Aro never stops," he murmurs.

Rose is up and practically pushing me out of the way. She sits at the co-pilot seat and slips on the headset provided.

Paul's brows pucker watching her work like she owns the plane. Little does he know she flies anything. She's quickly communicating with someone.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She looks at him and gives him a sly smile. "I don't have time for your whining. Check on tower 305."

"Already did. They've declined," he says annoyed.

"Good. Wanted to double check. I don't trust you."

"I didn't ask you to barge in. It's my plane," he argues.

I press my lips together trying not to let a sound out of my mouth. They're a sight to watch.

Rosalie flips buttons and takes over the shift. The plane pivots. I hold on to Edward.

"Hey!" Paul yells. He takes control of the plane and rights it. They fight back and forth with switches and buttons to be lead pilot.

Edward is about to interject when Rose gives up. "Fine! Show us what you got, captain."

Paul flexes his neck and turns the shift. We descend. He speaks through his head piece and the receiver scratches. A voice appears. The tower gives him permission to land north of Illinois. We simultaneously breathe relief.

Paul looks at Rose with a smug smirk. She rolls her eyes. "Affirmative. Descending five thousand feet. Landing in twenty," Paul responds.

The clouds clear up through the windshield and we see land. Trees and ground I know so well. Home. My stomach dips. The descent dizzying. Edward secures me to his side as we watch.

"Shit...shit..._shit." _Paul is leaning in. We follow what he sees and my heart pounds in mere seconds.

Black coats line the run way. Trucks and SUVs sit idle behind them. We're close enough to ground to see the guns and rifles in their hands. They wait for us to land.

So much running, climbing, jumping to end this so quickly. Like they've had all control and we were just waiting to be captured.

I look up at Edward and his brows distort with disbelief. "Rose," he simply says.

Paul is too occupied with the the tower shouting questions to notice her moving quickly. She grabs the shift and aims nose up. The plane levels with a jolt so hard I stumble. A few hundred feet off the ground and she lifts the plane back into the sky.

Paul braces himself and stares at her through wide eyes.

"Allow me," she says calmly.

"Crazy bitch!" he shouts. But then we hear shots. The windshield is peppered with bullets. None shatter it.

"We're bulletproof. They should know that," he says.

Edward shakes his head. "They're aiming at propellers. Hurry, Rose."

She speaks through the headset ignoring everyone. We hear a voice ring through the speakers. "Emmett," she calls.

"At your service, beautiful." I grin watching her lip twitch a bit. She sobers. His voice is deep and chilling. I remember his evil towards me.

"I need a runway."

"And a palace, my lady. Whatever you need." He goes silent for a moment and we all wait anxiously. Paul is seething. He's hitting switches and preparing the plane to ascend to high altitude again. He looks over at Rosalie and his eyes wander from her toes to her head. He's impressed but I know he won't admit it.

"I've got a spot. But I'll need the password, sugar," Emmett speaks.

Rosalie sighs. "No time, no games, Emmett. And you have an audience."

"Hello, Swan." I'm uneasy when he says my name.

"Emmett," I answer. Short and blunt.

"Where?" Edward speaks up. He's impatient.

We hear a sigh over the speaker. "Well I'm waiting," he says.

Rose growls. "Tell me!"

"Not without the password." He's calm but conniving. He's still the same. I dread the moment I meet him again.

"Emmett Dale McCarty. I will cut your dick off when I get my hands on you!" I press my lips at her threat. No wonder she can't settle with him. He's a savage.

"Password accepted. Runway clear...at our backyard."

"Stop fucking around!" Edward takes a step.

"I'm not. There's nowhere else, Masen. All towers have orders. Unless you'd like to land on a highway, this is all you got."

"He's right. There's nowhere to go." Paul agrees.

Rose stares out the window. Everyone seems to contemplate the danger. We might crash.

"You can do it, baby." Emmett breaks the silence. Rose takes a breath. Suddenly her spine straightens and she aims the plane to the right. She's ready.

Paul begins to check meters and notches. They help each other this time. Rosalie flies to the lab and Paul manages. Everything is silent with focus.

"Bella, you have to sit." Edward turns to me. He pulls me into the living area.

"So do you." He gives me a look. "Don't give me that look. You sit down right now or I won't. I won't have you bumping around on that shoulder or flying through the windshield, God forbid. Now sit." I pull his hand.

He pulls back on it and I turn to argue with him. My breath catches. His lips seals on mine suddenly. He's insistent and delicious with a long pull of my lips. The desperate horny woman in me is like a switch. I open wide for him.

He pulls away much too quickly. "Just in case," he whispers against me. I'm on my seat or maybe melted here and he's strapping me in. He does the same for himself.

He leaves me a mess of aching as I sit here watching him. I sigh and cross my legs. _Unbelievable. I'll die horny when the plane crashes. _

Payback for what I did to him. I'll take this punishment any day from him. Better than squats against the wall. I chuckle at the memory. He looks at me. He's changed so much. From inhuman to a human being.

"What?" Edward asks.

"I kinda liked when you were ruthlessly mean. The punishments. The deadly wake up calls. I miss it all." He looks down at me from my chest to my face. His jaw flexes.

"I was trying to toughen you up. Keep your mind from shutting down with misery. When you're worried constantly for your life, you're focused. You keep on your toes." He looks away. "I needed you alert."

_Oh. _I suddenly feel stupid. He's always been a step ahead of me. Of course, why didn't I think of that? I would've died of pain alone.

"So...that was...all a test of strength?" I ask hesitantly. "You didn't really hate me?"

He blinks not looking into my eyes. Thinking maybe. I feel he won't reply but he parts his lips. "I could never hate anyone who went through what I went through. I never...hated you. But I needed you to feel."

"Hate...towards you."

"But you _felt _something. You were alive, body and mind...and fighting back."

I shake my head thinking of all the times I beat him with anger. I made him bleed with my hate. "Why didn't you ever tell me this?"

His head falls back on the seat with a soft thump. He looks at the ceiling. He doesn't answer. But I know why. Why would he? It was psychology.

"Thank you," I whisper after a while. His head turns only slightly to acknowledge.

"Don't thank me yet. I never said I was done. I'm still counting," he says with a bite. He's still angry at my stunt.

My stomach flips. I don't know if he's joking or serious. I lift my chin anyway. "Fine. We'll have to see then."

"We shall."

The plane bounces and I gasp. "That was him, not me," Rose says from the front. Paul makes a sound.

"Landing in thirty," Paul announces.

I look out the window and we're low enough to see tree tops. The accelerator excels. My fingers dig into the armrests. Edward is calm but I know better. His fists are balled and he stretches his neck to see inside the cockpit. He was right about that kiss. What if this goes wrong? What if it was the last time I felt his lips. To come this far...

We're pressed against the seats with the strength. Loud sirens go off up front. Paul curses.

"Easy...easy..." Emmett says over the speakers. But his voice sounds anything but easy going. "Level the right wing. Rose! Level..."

"I know! Give me a minute!" she shouts as she gets closer.

We dip and my stomach does the same. The plane lowers once and twice again. She levels the wing.

Emmett steadily offers guidance. Paul offers doubt in silent glances. He's worried, but Rose isn't breaking a sweat.

I turn my head just enough to see Edward's profile. The plane shakes us. The vein on his forehead is present and I begin to pray. I pray I get to kiss that vein away. Bring peace to his heart that hasn't found calm in so long. Kiss his hands for freeing me from Aro's wrath and death. I reach for one. He looks down. His eyes find mine and I pray I get to kiss those eyes for looking at me the way they do.

As voices around our bubble are frantic and fighting to keep this plane aligned, I tell him, outloud, "I love you...just in case."

His eyes alight with greens so bright I've never seen before. They widen. The dark sphere dotting them grow as they dialect and I know he hears me before the loud bang. We're jostled.

Paul fights. Rose fights. The brakes shriek. Under us an avalanche of ground moving, breaking to accept heavy wheels and a ton of metal sailing over earth.

Rose is pulling on a lever and Paul slams a boot on the console for leverage. He plants his hands over hers and pulls with her. The plane turns, nose up, bouncing over dips and mounds on the valley.

My eyes squeeze shut and I don't want to see. Trees line the horizon and they're getting close. I pray and pray and trees bang, fall and roll under us. I'm pushed forward, backwards and sideways. I whimper.

Silence.

"Welcome home, mates." Emmett's voice booms from the speakers. I open my eyes. A blink.

Paul has rolled to the floor. Rose under him. His arms over her head in a cocoon. A tree branch speared through the windshield, now taking residence where Rose once sat.

I'm panting but take a heaving breath of relief. I look to see the man attached to my white knuckled hand and he's still watching me. His eyes just as bright. His lips just as red and inviting. I sigh. I can't help the smile pulling at my lips.

In a heartbeat, he's fumbling with his seat belt, then mine. I'm out of my chair and grabbing his face. "Edward," I whisper his name and I take inventory of his limbs. I see nothing out of place. His eyes close and he leans his cheek on my hand.

"I could've died a happy man with just those words," he says crushing me to his chest.

"No," I shake my head. "Not yet. Die when we're old and holding hands," I whisper against his neck. I feel his lips on my forehead.

"Bella...I..." he begins to say. My heart lurches.

"Well, fuck..." Paul says loudly. He sees the mess around him. We look and the bubble is broken. Edward's jaw clamps. He steps away. I sigh still feeling butterflies.

I follow his gaze around us and nothing was damaged but the windshield. Everything else intact...except for Paul and Rosalie. He rolls off of her awkwardly. She's panting. Her eyes instantly glue to the bark. She sighs and looks at Paul. He's holding his neck and flexing it. Rose tries to move and grunts. Everyone looks down at her.

Paul kneels by her. He panics when there's blood on her neck. "You ok?" he asks and I move towards her. She flails her hand insisting she's fine. But there's a lot of blood.

Paul removes his shirt and balls it in his fist. He presses it to her wound. My steps falter because I stare at Rose who's staring at Paul. I do a double take because damn he's tan and fit and this is weird, his kindness even more so. I suddenly feel like I'm interrupting. My lips press together like they have been watching them together all morning.

I look back at Edward and he's busy pushing at the door. I go to him wanting to laugh at the sight behind me. The door slams open with one kick and sunlight pours in. He lifts a hand towards me and I greedily take it. His grin is infectious. He's relieved and no more vein on his forehead. I love him like this. _I told him I loved him. _

We climb out the stairs. Air. Freedom. The breeze moves leaves over unharmed trees and the grass is crisp and sun kissed. I want to run or lie on it and feel the sun. It's like I've never seen it before. I sigh and just as quickly smile.

Alice is far with a trailing Emmett behind. She looks anxious, shading her eyes to see better. I look up at Edward and he smirks. "She missed you, you know." And I realized how much I missed her, too. I let go of Edward's hand and run—right into Alice's arms.

"Shit..." she whispers. "You're alive...God...I'm so glad you're alive." She squeezes me half to death. "And you're so thin. Jesus, Bella." She pulls me arms length and looks at me with puckered brows.

"Well, It wasn't exactly vacation." I grin at her, not taking offense. I can't. Not now or ever. I'm free. "You look great too," I whisper. And she does...standing beside her Corporal. He watches from a few feet away. I stare at his defeated expression. _Does he remember me?_

His posture is ridged. He's clean shaven and his head is buzzed cut. He reminds me so much of Edward with all the scars on his face and neck. He wears a sweater with a hoodie and relaxed jeans. Far too relaxed for his demeanor. He takes a step towards me.

Alice smiles and her arm in a lab coat is already tucked through the nook of his arm. "This is Jasper Whitlock. I believe you two already met." She says this with no bitterness or regret.

"Ma'am," he nods once. But his face is crushed, he won't look at me. "My apologies. I...didn't know. If I would've..." I lift a hand to stop him.

"It's alright. I don't blame anyone. Ever," I tell him. I do the unthinkable to a man so reserved as him, but I don't care, I hug him. He's is suddenly tense in my arms and I squeeze him all the more. Memories of this man in pain. Imprisoned in a cell, fighting for his life. I cave. "I'm so very sorry for your troubles. I'm happy you're alive." I pull away and his eyes are warm. His lip lifts at the corner and he clears his throat. That's enough for me.

Edward reaches my side and slips his fingers through mine. He smirks at Alice who's giving him a hero's look, of knowing and understanding.

"Looks like you made it...barely," Jasper tells him. Edward nods, looking back.

"Was hell, but worth it," he says glancing down at me. Alice chuckles at my expression as I lose myself watching him. I grow red.

My gaze falls on Emmett behind her and my stomach plummets when I realize how close he is. He threw me out of a plane once. I'm not a fan of his.

Fortunately, he isn't looking at me. I'm the least of his concerns. He seems to be looking for Rosalie. When he doesn't find her, he runs. We all watch the scene unfold in front of us. Rose being guided out of the plane pressed to Paul's chest...and his state of undress. Emmett slows to a jog and he's just as surprised as we are.

Rose is fussing but she looks pale. Paul is visibly hissing words at her to keep still as he holds the soaked shirt to her neck. But when she sees Emmett, she stops and looks even more pale, if possible. She hides in Paul's neck. He takes the chance and finally lifts her off the grass.

They pass right by Emmett and into Alice's awaiting hands. I'll never forget Emmett's fury, knowing that this, at least, will finally change him.

—•—•—•

The hallways are lot brighter than I remembered. I can almost see myself running for my life through these halls. It's amusing the irony as I walk hand in hand with Edward. Him by my side instead of running after me, or carrying me back to the lab.

I follow all of them to the lab. Alice is working on Rose and Paul is at her side by the metal bed I remember so well. Things have changed, though. The upscale is sleek and modern with new machines. I look at Edward wondering if the updates were made because of him. He's looking for needle and thread. His wound still open. Everyone looks for things to get better.

He's tugging his shirt off and pulling on the gauze in no time. "Edward, wait!" Alice yells at him. He's impatient and won't do it right. She's pushes him towards a bed and he sits with a sigh. "It's not even clean you stubborn man."

He's in a rush and I dare to think I know why. I stand by his side and he watches me as Alice works on his shoulder. I want to be with him too.

Meanwhile the tension is heavy from far. Emmett stands by Rosalie and so does Paul. Alice looks back and then at me. Her eyes are filled with questions. I try not to laugh.

"I've made breakfast. You all must be famished," Alice says loudly. "We'll eat when we're done here, so don't run off." She makes a point to look at Edward when she says this. I'm a continuous bubble of smiles. This is what happy feels like. He just looks at her sternly. "You have all the time in the world. She's safe now." She says quietly.

He looks away. I tilt my head wondering if its red creeping up his neck. Alice smiles and looks at me. "So grumpy," she mouths. I chuckle holding his hand and slipping beside him.

When he's done and patched up, me a cringing mess watching, he stands and takes my hand. "Not so fast!" Alice warns. "She stays. Go help Jasper in the kitchen, please," she orders him.

His jaw clamps when he gives her a glare. I lean in and kiss him there. "I'll be here," I assure him. He walks out without another word with burning eyes for Alice. But not before she slips pills in his hand. I watch him dump them on a nearby table before the door closes. I sigh.

"I haven't seen him smile at me in...years," she says referring to our arrival. She smiles to herself. Emmett and Paul are gone too. Leaving just the women. Rose is quiet where she lies. Her arm over her eyes where she's kept it since we got here. Ignoring everyone. Even Emmett standing by her like a puppy.

"He's...different," I say about Edward. Alice smiles at me. "So are you. Always knew that handsome Corporal would steal your heart." She laughs not denying. She frowns then and it's quiet. She sets a needle up and snaps a rubber band around my arm to draw some blood. I don't look.

"I prayed for you everyday. Even if we all knew you were gone. I had a hunch but told no one. I couldn't falsely give him hope." I nod understanding.

"I have to ask you. It's procedure. Forgive me," she says hesitantly.

"Anything."

"Do I need to check on anything else? Did he...hurt you?" She switches to doctor mode. Her shoulders square and she keeps occupied working on the tubes of crimson she pulls out.

"Not in ways that shows," I tell her. I grow red. She knows. She's not an imbecile. My breathing is staggered and I suddenly can't breathe. She holds my neck for me to look at her but I can't. I won't. Tears are already brimming. She checks my pulse.

"Easy," she whispers. I take a heaving breath that hurts my chest. And I'm crying again when I'm supposed to be happy. "Let it all out." And I do. She holds me all the while.

"I need to check, alright? Just in case." I dread those words that were tender just a while ago.

"It's not what you think," I explain, shaking my head. I wipe at tears. "I did bad things." Alice watches me crumble.

"To survive, Bella." I don't look at her.

Suddenly there's rustling across the room and it's Rose moving. She sits up. Her posture not like herself. She's in pain but looks at me square in my eyes. "Doesn't make you the only woman in the world to use sex to get things." She's angry but it's concern and anger towards her past. "Even if it wasn't the last resort."

She knows. Too well. Her story in my head. And then I feel horrible for her. I look at Alice and she knows too. The feeling. The dirty feeling but you did it anyway because it was the only way.

"I once cut a man's dick off with his blade right after. He was my foster parent." Alice says. Rose looks at me like I should see.

"Shit, Alice," and I'm crying for her. She smirks.

She moves to a cabinet and pulls out a blanket. "Guess I never told you my story did I?" I don't respond.

She was lost in a world of foster care after her mother died. She was a brooding angry kid and her father was lost too. She spent her young life being moved from one house with abusive men to the next. "I'd let them beat me because fuck them. The court would get them off the system and behind bars. I didn't want that for other kids. Then I broke into the state system and found the files. Carlisle was my father's name. The file said he gave me up after my mother, Esme, died."

I gape, remembering the pictures. I knew once she told me she was Carlisle's daughter, but not that she knew her mother. I wonder if she knows she had a brother who died. I don't say anything.

"I was so angry at him. So ready to avenge him for what he did to me. Then when he found me I thought I was ready. I fought him. He promised me to teach me to fight and if I got well enough I could kill him myself. He was sick but serious. I believed him. So I went with him. It was better than being alone."

And that's that. Tears stop and I'm just in awe. They've all had it worse. "What made him come back?" I ask.

She shrugs. "Guilt, I guess," she says. "Maybe he found me when he saw the news of a dick-less man." Rose cackles from across the room. I want to laugh too.

"Guess we've all been given difficult choices," she finishes. Se pushes me back on the table and smiles warmly.

Rose is at my side and she grabs my hand. I'm surprised but warmed. Her jaw set, angry with the world. The tears that settle at my temples shows how panicked I feel. My heart hammering at what Alice might find.

_God have sympathy over me. _

She finishes and taps on my arm. "Clean and safe. You're done." I breathe like air has been sucked out. "I'm guessing you haven't had your period in months. Lack of nutrition and too much trauma. You were lucky. But you need rest."

She moves to Rose and checks her wound that was just a scratch after all. We were all lucky.

I lie here, staring at the ceiling. Angry with secrets I want to keep to myself because how will I ever tell Edward? I won't. I can't.

But I know, as I watch the girls, that I'll never be alone.

—•—•—•

I walk into the kitchen that's white with a porcelain sink, cement walls and countertops. It's industrial but made to be a place to cook meals.

Edward sees me and its like he comes to life. He's sitting at the cement table and makes to stand. I go to him and sit beside him. He watches me closely and it's like X-ray to my soul. "Everything alright?" he whispers in my ear, sending static down my spine. I nod.

"Never been better." Happiness overflows. I'm afraid of anything taking it away. He runs a finger under my eye and he knows I've cried. He doesn't ask.

The food is plenty. More like brunch. Alice and jasper are amazing. They cater to us, bringing plates and bowls of fruit, eggs, cold cuts and warm oatmeal. Edward pours me a bowl and pushes another plate towards me when i clean it out. I sigh. Stuffed. But he insist with fingertips against my lips and I'd pretty much do anything for him. I chew willingly, biting pieces off of warm sweet bread.

He moves so he is facing my profile and pulls my chair close between his legs. The bubble is sealing us again when I look at him.

He eats with one hand and every now and then his lips skim my cheek, my hair or shoulder when he reaches for more things to put on my plate. Quick pecks that make my limbs weak and sends sparks down my spine. I watch the room, hoping no one notices how staggered my breathing has become. He takes a bite of bread and chews like he's being a gentlemen, but I feel his teeth on my shoulder and he's far from it. I jolt. My eyes threaten to roll back in front of everyone.

"I guess no punishment today?" I whisper.

"Hmm, still thinking about it." He licks his lips when he swallows another piece. I want to do it for him, but not yet. I flush, watching.

My teeth clamp down on my lip when I feel his hand to close up my thigh. I press my hand on his—to make him stop or push it up, I can't decide. I just try to breathe meanwhile.

The room grows quiet and I notice. I don't know for how long. I look up. Heat like an oven creeps up my neck and chest. They're all watching us. Alice across the room with a grin. She covers her lips.

I roll my eyes with a huff. "Can one of you nosy fuckers pass the coffee, please."

Alice laughs loud. Others turn to their plates and some grunt things that sounds like, "Gross and get a room." I sigh sagging into him.

"You're an evil man," I whisper. I catch his eyes and he's looking at my shoulder. The shirt rode down and a mark that hasn't healed enough shows. I pull on the collar, quickly covering it. He looks away. His tongue a ball behind his cheek for a second, clearing remnants of food. He's pissed. I wonder all the affection had a purpose. To pull and see.

I grow angry and push my plate away. It comes right back. "All of it," he orders. He glances at me like he caught himself and cringes. "Please..." he adds over the rim of his coffee mug after a stretched moment.

I pick up my fork and I know Alice is watching when I feel her gaze. I take a breath and another bite of eggs. Then another. And another. My mouth is full and I stuff another bite in and the plate is clean. I push it away.

Paul, who has borrowed a shirt and sitting across from me chuckles, but sobers just as quickly when he looks at Edward.

I wipe my mouth with a hand. I dare to look at Edward and lift a brow.

He doesn't say a word but picks up a napkin and dabs the side of my lips that clearly won't clean all the mess. "Missed a spot," He says.

I give him an egg filled smile. He rolls his eyes.

Paul suddenly stands. He grabs a box from a countertop. My heart skips when I see what it is. I remember it. "Paul..." I say and he smirks.

"I believe this is yours," he says. He slides the box over. My chair scratches on the floor reaching for it. The black with metal studs lining the box are the same. I open the lid and Edward's hands come up lightning speed to grab an Ivory. He looks up at Paul.

"I knew it, you sneaky bastard! I knew you had the twins!" Paul shrugs.

Edward turns them over his hands silently. He splits the barrel and checks every line. Runs his palm over the surface like he's missed them.

"Did he handle them?" Edward asks Paul about Aro. Paul shakes his head.

"Never. Just Bella... And myself. But I had to remove the chip," he says apologetically. "I stored them in the plane when I got your call."

"How did you end up with them?" Edward asks. Paul cuts his eyes to me.

"Same night as the opera house. Bella had them on, under her dress. She killed a soldier with one shot." He smirks as if with pride. Everyone turns to look at me surprised.

I play with a napkin. Horrible night it was. Azar was right there and I was taken away again. I still get angry. "He almost had Azar."

"Azar was there?" Edward asks. Paul confirms and tells him everything. The helicopter. The war. The way Aro pulled me off the railing. I grow red with the stares of every set of eyes around the room. Especially Edward's.

Paul smiles after a moment. "That wasn't the only man she killed. Sweet Bella is no saint. She's a beast."

"Shut it, Paul." I panic. He refers to James and that confusing night. I killed him because I thought he killed Edward. I don't want them to know that.

Paul laughs. Edward doesn't. Alice and Rose watch me in disbelief, while the corporal looks to Edward incase he pounces on Paul over the table.

Emmett roars with laughter. "I'd pay to see that. The Swan killing flies left and right. Who was he?" He encourages Paul who chuckles and folds his arms over his chest.

"James," he confesses. "One shot on his boot the other right through his heart. Vengeance, right Bella?" he says looking at Edward with a smirk. He said it and I want to kill him now. Everyone is quiet with shock, even Emmett.

Edward places the twins back inside the box with force. The lid slams shut.

"I don't know what your _cult _taught you, Paul, but here, there are two rules: We don't boast death and we don't patronize Bella. You might have while I wasn't around but not on my watch, not anymore."

Blood drains out of my face. I can't even look at Edward or his eyes would burn with the look he's giving Paul. "Are we good?" he finishes.

"Edward," I whisper. I reach for his arm.

"No, Bella. He's no fucking hero. He had every chance to take you out of there, but he didn't. He is who he is—Jake's pet. Yeah, I remember you," he says pointing at him. "Don't ever doubt I'd forget. What the fuck finally convinced you?" He nods at Paul who's dead serious now. "Was it her fake death or the fucking bruises, you piece of shit, which one?"

Paul's nostrils are wide. His jaw tight. But he doesn't answer or reacts, even when Edward reaches into his pocket and pulls out a single bullet. The metal sits upright on the cement table with a clack.

"The only thing holding me back from loading this is because we're here and she likes you. But you're permanently on my list. That's right, the one I keep tightly wrapped with a _ribbon_. I wouldn't fuck up if I were you."

With that, he stands and tugs me out of the chair. I follow willingly but dying with shame for Paul. I look at him and he's staring at his plate. His eyes find mine and guilt all over them.

"You can have my room. That's as far as _nice _goes with me," Edward says loudly over his shoulder.

I'm practically running behind Edward's long strides. The hallway leads the way through familiar walls. His hand tight around mine and when I look up at him. I dare not to speak. I sigh when I see the double doors. _Our room. _He pushes and leads me in.

Everything is the same but changed. The room is cleared up of old furniture. The shelves are stocked with books still but they're clean and dusted. The floors are new. No cement to dirty my feet or make them cold. But the crystals over the window remain. That makes me smile.

I turn to see what he's doing and he's moving around in the bathroom. Banging on things. He's still pissed. But I occupy myself with looking at the walls and the cabinet that I shot through once to open it. It's new. Re-enforced with a better lock. I bite on my lip thinking of him seeing the mess I made for the first time. His red ribbon necklace gone. That makes me sad.

Edward walks out of the bathroom and grabs my hand. His shirt is already off and boots. I watch his back move and heat flows through me. _Shit. _This is it.

I barely notice the new tiles and bath with matching sink. He's pulling on my shirt and I won't look at him. He turns me towards the light and there they are. All the marks for him to see. I stand facing his scars as he runs a hand over my back to my nape. I lean on him and wait for the dynamite. His chest moving under me, I bring my arms around him hoping to calm him.

"He...did this."

I don't respond. Why should I? He nudges my cheek and I look back into the mirror he's looking through. He looks pale. He lifts my arm and sees more. I wrap it around his neck.

"Guess he scarred us both, didn't he?" I whisper. I kiss his jaw. "They'll heal."

He shakes his head. A staggered breath leaves him. His forehead drops on my shoulder. His hands around my hips, knuckles white. He's shaking. I just wait for it to pass.

With a heaving chest he's pulling on my pants roughly and then my underwear. I just cling to him as he steps out of his. And he's gorgeous. It's been so long and the hard lines are deeper, defined. I'm a gawking mess growing red. But he's not himself, his eyes far and unfocused. He bends and lifts me. I watch him until the dark hallway leading to the pools swallows the light off his features. The only light to lead his steps is coming from the bathroom. He jumps into the pool in complete darkness.

Fear doesn't even register. Not with him. We float and submerge together and I'm never without his skin. I close my eyes and just feel.

"Bella..." he strains. A ball is already forming in my throat. "Tell me...tell me if he touched you." And I crumble inside. He said it. He's asking. The darkness our only witness and these waters. I can't speak.

"Say it...tell me...where, how..." He swallows thickly, I feel it on my arm where I hug him. "Bella..." his voice fails.

I submerge. Everything is silent under water. I wish everything would go away just like sound fades. I push myself away on his hip. I swim to the shallow end where there's dim light. I find air again.

"Only when I let him," I whisper. But sound travels in darkness. He heard me. I know he did. Silence is deafening. I look and nothing. I can't see him. He's swallowed whole in darkness but for his panting. Like a beast, hiding, about to devour me. My heart pounds.

Then I regret. My mouth, my stupid mouth, when his fists are proof enough, banging on cement. I shouldn't never said it. A growl roars out of him so loud. Like he's had enough. Life. Struggles. Hurt. I start. I hold my ears shut. Splashes of water where he just goes insane. Pillars of candles roll on cement to dim light. I see his balled fist, knuckles bleeding, before it disappears again.

I cover my face. I cry. _This_ is fear. The one person you trust and love is broken and it was all your fault. He's finally quiet, after so long. All I do is cry silently. My heaving chest, laments of pain and regret.

"Why, Bella? Why did you let him?" His voice is hoarse. I can't answer. I won't. But he continues to kill me with words. "He's taken so fucking much. Now you...I'll kill him. I'll kill him. I'll kill him..." And he says this over and over until I cover my ears. I see the shadow of him and he's perched over the edge. His head on his hands. I close my eyes and the water is over my head. I'll die here and finish it all.

But his hands find me before my lungs explode. He pulls me up, water cascading and air flows in lungs. He folds me into his chest.

"I had to find you." I heave, "I tried...I tried to run! To kill him with my bare hands. You have to understand."

"Shh, Bella." His crushing hug holds me up.

I grab his face that's streaked with heat down his cheeks. I make him listen. "You have to forgive me. You're all I have. You're all I want...I...I gave because he would've taken. And that would've killed me even more!" I yell at him. I beat my chest with a fist.

He shakes his head. "He made you give in and you didn't even see. That's what he does, Bella."

"I'm sorry. I'm so...so..." I hide in his chest. The world on mine and I can't breathe. It's filled with my cries and he just holds me through it. He should be running. Hating me. But he isn't.

"Just tell me..." he whispers after moments of this. "Tell me how." And he's relentless. I sob. If only this water could drown me now.

His hands trail up my sides and I'm against the wall. Teeth on tender skin between my breasts. One and then the other. He pulls on a puckered breast. "Like this?" he asks.

"Edward...please." I cover my face. I pull away to climb out. To run. Anything. But lead arms are like they used to be so long ago in this very spot.

He uses his tongue and catches my lip. Heat. "Tell me."

I heave. "No." I shake my head. I lift my elbows to pull myself up and crawl out. But he wraps my legs around him. Those hands on my thighs, my bottom, gripping and pulling me closer. He kisses me and I can't breathe.

"Bella tell me and I promise never to do the same." He bites my lip. I whimper. Tears leaking. My chest constricts against his.

He lifts me. Water is everywhere he lays me. "You could never...Edward..._ahh_. God..." He pulls my legs apart and I see nothing in this darkened room but stars.

"Where was he? Here?" he asks with my flesh in his mouth.

"_Argh!_ No..._never_." I arch where he holds me. His hands push on my thighs. A shower of black rain falls. He climbs out and over me. The warmth of his lips leaves me, a trail from my navel to my neck. I shiver, but quickly feel him everywhere. His chest slips over mine. His fingers insistent on my knees.

He thrusts and he's hard against me. "Did he love you like this?" he asks. My neck, pulled between sharp teeth.

I can't stop the sounds coming out of me. "God, no..._Edward_..." I strain to keep from fainting. My hips are deceiving when he moves again. All of him and I've missed him. "Never, never, _never_..._ah!_" He thrusts and everything feels like it used to. My head falls back on his hands, his cradle tight under my arms. I'm in a dripping cocoon of him.

"Show me, Bella. How?" he whispers over my lips. I grab onto his shoulders, his chest, anything to pull him closer, but he slips. Drips of warmed water that were once chilled. I find his neck and bite his jaw instead. He keeps me suspended. But I wrap my legs around him and slip onto him.

I won't let him stain this, us. I pull his hair hard and... "_Fuck him,_" I seethe. "Show me how you'd love me instead." I dig my nails into his ass and kiss him. He grunts and he's gone. My hands lift and drop with the feel of his strength. He moves into me completely.

He thrashes me over this floor. Scraped palms to find more. No memory of anything but him. I'm a quivering mess and he's all over me. Candles roll but with new reason. I climb over him and my knees are raw on this unforgiving floor with the desperation I feel for him. His lips and hands anywhere he can reach. Strength beneath me, between his narrow hips. I kiss every curve and line on hard skin. I feel but can't see his pecks, his scars beneath my lips. He pulls on my knees and he's to the hilt. Like water over my head, suffocating again. I brace shaking hands on his chest or die here.

"Bella..." he whispers. He pulls me beneath him. I pant his name and dig heels into his hips. He's never close enough. He never ceases to slow. I will crave this man, everyday, no plans. I'd lock myself in darkness for all eternity if it's with him.

And then he kills me, he whispers, "I fucking love you...I love you. So much..." So crisp and clear into these ears that only hears echoed sounds of loving. My eyes fill and he finally tells me. "I've loved you since I first killed for you," he says to my cheek. He pulls my hair. My throat his aim. And I can't.

Tears flow like chemical dark drops that would fill a pool. This is a thousand tons of love. I hug him and these words send me through a whirl of shudders. He spills his love and truth with all the force he musters. It always was and will only ever be him.

—•—•—•

**A/N See? Reviews DID make me write faster. Pfft. **

**I love you for saying hi. You girls are hilarious. Give me some love today so I can sneak a peek at my phone while bbqing. Please, please. It's almost over. Already writing Chapter 30. 30! FINALLY!**


	31. Chapter 30: Guilt

**A/N Hello. This was hard because I know what the end is but it's hard to get there and connect the dots. **

**Anyway, It's nice seeing Rob on set again. Sigh. He's so hot. But seriously needs to grow that hair again! Someone please tell him.**

**Thanks to Beta B for your patience and advice. Heart you hard. Apology to my girls who I've wrote in as cameos in this fic. No hard feelings? Heh. I'll leave this here. :-) Go read.**

**|:::::[-]:::i):::| — fastening this, after dat.**

—•—•—•

_**Sound: Data romance (whole album)**_

—•—•—•

**Chapter 30 - Guilt**

Chandelier crystals shine the brightest I think. Or maybe just in this room. Light resides here and so does a peaceful Edward who sleeps. I've never seen him like this. The pucker on his brow isn't present like it always is. I awake to soft lips on my chest. Fiery hair tickling my neck.

I lie here staring at walls that play clips of yesterday and hopeful tomorrows. I don't want to ever leave this place. But there are still problems that need to be fixed. For now, I run curious hands over his body.

I inch away until I'm free from under him. He needs to sleep but I can't help it. I want to see his other scars**,** too.

Sheets are tangled around legs so I pull them until some spills off the bed. And there he is. I sit back and watch his back fill again and again. His arms bundle a pillow under his chin.

I bite my lip because even with all the scars that aren't inked, he's still gorgeous. How did I ever get him to love me? Then I remember him telling me. I could hear those words forever. The first time he killed for me. I try to remember when that was.

On a hip I trace a circle that was once a bullet. And then another on the other side of his shoulder. A long gash of skin is plump like a vein on a rib. I trace that one. And my god, it's amazing he's still alive.

Cotton settles on the dip of his back and I pull on that. I see indents of nails. Maybe I shouldn't mark him more than he already is. I hold back from chuckling loud. _Geez. Such a whore, Bella. _I bite my tongue hard to not dig my teeth on his ass or the dimples on the small of his back, finally waking him. I look away or i'll do it. I swear.

His thighs are relaxed with a bent knee. But my smile turns when I see a bigger scar there. It's pink and healed but I wonder how it got there. I sigh**,** promising myself I won't let him go through anymore if I could help it. To ruin his body any further. It's mine now.

But all of this is proof of his growth. His muscles curve more since I remember. His recuperation was tougher than mine a year ago. I remember Rosalie's words.

I crawl from the end of the bed to his neck. Soap. We ended up here after his outrage. Took a shower at once, still clinging to one another. Tears mixed with water, telling him over and over how much I loved him.

I don't ever want to see him like that as long as I live. I made him promise he wouldn't hurt himself as I washed off the blood from his peeling knuckles.

I think he forgave me. I hope. Or I'll use my whole lifetime to plead, to make him understand.

He sighs in his sleep and my eyes go to his face to make sure he didn't wake. If he found me checking him out I'd be mortified. Dead.

"Stop staring at my ass, Bella." He turns his head to find a cold spot and continues to sleep.

And there it is. How does he always know? I cover my mouth and crawl back to my spot as quick as I can.

"Scars. Not exactly your ass, per se. But it was there, so I guess I did take a peek." He doesn't respond. I roll my eyes and bite on a smile. _Jerk._

I remember yesterday. Us here. Finally together. We never left. We slept from exhaustion. The long night and day filled with a rescue, a chase, a plane crash and this. He pulled me from the shower in a towel and we drifted. I tried to hold back more tears that dripped on our pillow. But i couldn't. My brain re-lived things in my sleep. I'd start awake to a thumb over my lids, wiping tears away. No words exchanged, just letting sleep fade sadness away.

But I couldn't describe the feeling—the one where you wake and forget where you are only to realize...right in his arms. Relief like no other in my life. He would be asleep and I'd wake him to make love again with sealed eyelids, still in a dream. Automatic love. Hands and lips knowing what to do.

At night, he slipped away to get dinner. I assured him I wasn't hungry, but he did anyway. So I got dressed. Clothes still hung in the closet for me. The white cotton dress with the hood was there. I slipped it on and I went to the kitchen with him. The lab is scary at night when no one is around. Everyone sleeping. Recuperating. I wondered where Carlisle was. I asked Edward as he pulled on the door of the fridge, barefoot, in just his dark pants. He just shook his head like it wasn't worth discussing. Like it always isn't. I grew weary. Things couldn't possibly be the same with him.

We prepared risotto as I contemplated. Then I realized I hadn't cooked in so long. But I managed a stir fry as he sat on the counter drinking a beer he found somewhere. He stared the whole time.

We loaded a couple of plates and left the rest for folks who would possibly wander in.

My heart almost crawled out of my chest when a door slammed far away. I knew it was Carlisle. Edward just pushed me along when I tried to see around the bend of a wall. It wouldn't end like that. I knew it. But I gave in and let him lead us back to our room.

We ate as I questioned him. He didn't answer and I argued with him. _Where's Carlisle? What has he done? Was it really him who leaked the video? Did he know about Aro's plans? Toshiro's experiments? What about others chasing after the missing key? _

He just licked his lips after his last bite and pulled on my cotton dress. "Edward..." I pleaded. He pulled on my legs and I was on my back and him running a hand over me. I lost words watching him strip and come to me.

"I just got you back," he said as he pressed into me. That was it. He had me. How could you ever argue with that?

But today is different. Something _will_ be done.

I watch him turn on his back after a long moment of me thinking, growing hot with memories of his mouth. His arms lift over his head, the pillow a mound under them and I crawl to the end of the bed. Something will be done, just not this second. For now I pull on sheets again.

His hip bones are cut to kill. I want to run my tongue over the lines and maybe I will. He can't accuse me now of staring at his ass. A scar on his inner thigh and another on the trail of his hair...leading to finest dick I've ever seen. I bite back on a moan staring at my new obsession. Blood is hot in my veins.

His eyes pop open.

He bucks and he's awake now. He looks down at my full mouth and sighs. "Bella..." His fingers grip my hair. He tries not to move. His head falls back, but it's useless for a stretched moment as he grows desperate. His knuckles frantically push at my lips when he's breathing too hard. I slip off and he's pulling me up greedily. I hold him off to lick every line I had in mind, to run my fingers over his abs. A kiss for every new scar.

"Tell me how you got them," I say crawling up to him. His breathing is labored, trying to calm. He cups my cheeks and kisses me hard. I put a finger on one. "This one?"

"The glass. The window I jumped from," he says unfocused. I bite his lip loving this.

"And this?" I trace a palm on his thigh that's pressed beneath me. I watch his abs flex as he pulls me to straddle him. I sigh. This feeling.

He swallows thickly when I move. "I, uh...a rock...in a river when I fell in...tried to kick up." His hand splays on my face. I bite his thumb.

"What about these?" I circle the bullet scars. His chest lifts and drops and so does his hips. He watches my breasts bounce once, twice. He bends his knees behind me.

"Bella..." He's over this conversation. But I insist. He'd never tell me otherwise. I lean my hands on the headboard above his head. His eyes follow my every move, but his lids flutter lazily. "When they uh...they were all shooting. The window wasn't enough," he whispers. His forehead is glistening.

I remember. The last I saw of him. Jumping over me and through a window. The shots after shots. Glass shattered all over me like rain. My brows knit watching him. He grabs my face and pulls me. Chest to chest. I kiss him with all I have.

With a lift he slips into me. My stomach tightens and so does his. "I wanted to jump, too," I tell him. His hands roam like a blind man.

When it isn't enough**, **he's over me and I can't talk watching him work. He moves hard but takes his time, soft grunts I consume from his mouth. I suffocate watching the crystals shine so brightly on his skin. New indents of nails I can't help. He erased every lingering remnant of an evil man, hours ago, just one touch, one look. No sign of anyone but him right through my skin.

"I know," he whispers, gripping my hair—all the talking we do.

—•—•

He's out of bed and I'm getting dressed. My hair dripping wet. The cabinet is open and it's like it used to be, except he isn't scary. Well...when he's not yelling.

He fit the Ivories where they display like royalty in the cabinet. He grabs one and jams it into a gun halter he's inclined to wear at all times, blades with it. I saunter up to him and kiss his back by a blade, I can barely be away from him, watching his every move. The new toy on Christmas day, butterflies in my stomach, itching hands to touch him, more so after letting me lather his skin and hair with his soap.

"They look just right. Exactly where they belong." A muffled murmur on his back. I feel his chest sigh contently. He pulls my fingers through his, over his heart.

"I'm glad they were with you," he says. We look at everything displayed silently. His collection has grown. I don't ask. But then I see the small hook that's occupied, where the only color lives. Hanging from it a ribbon, a new one. I gasp. I reach for it. My fingers skim the same exact tusk I once lost.

"How?" I ask. His nose skims my ear and I know he grins.

"Had to get it back," he says.

"But...the crime scene. They thought it was evidence," I explain. I look up at him.

He nods. "I know." He pulls it out of my hands and ties it around my neck with a double knot. My index and thumb skim the silk down the valley of my chest. "For once, I was glad for your clumsiness."

"I'm not."

"You are," he calmly says sealing the cabinet shut. I roll my eyes.

"Semantics. And you don't make sense."

He turns to look at me in my shirt, underwear and necklace alone. I can't find a way to fully dress. We've tried once. Second attempt this one.

He runs his finger over the silk...and roams down. He pulls me by the waist of my underwear. "I knew it was you when I heard it on the news. Red Ribbon killer still at large." He scoffs.

"You figured I was alive."

"Azar confirmed it to me not long after, but that slip up had your name written all over it."

I smile with pride. "You're welcome." He smirks and I kiss it. "Still doesn't explain how you got it."

"Still doesn't explain how it got there," he fires back taking in my expression. It falls. Sudden nerves, a pang to my chest. I don't speak. I blink and look to a wall behind him for courage.

"Why were you there? You killed James that night, didn't you?" he asks. He steps in closer to me. His chest skims mine. I step back to breathe.

He tugs at my chin, forcing me to look at him. "You could've been killed, Bella."

"But I wasn't," I quickly respond. Anger like sparks.

"Why?"

"He was a threat, to everyone. We would've died that night if Aro knew Paul was helping me."

"How?"

I swallow thickly and shrug. "Just..." I try. How do I tell him I was looking for a red ribbon like his?

"Bella," he says with a bite. My eyes flicker to his. "What were you trying to find?"

"You," I tell him. I pull away from him. All the shame left. He's quiet, wide eyes, fists at his sides.

"I hoped. Just...hoped," I murmur. "But it got...out of hand and...I had to do it because Paul wouldn't." I shake my head. "And...I thought James killed you," I finally confess. My chest is tight, trying to fill. He just stares. I look at my hands, balled into fists between us. He grabs them and pulls my nails from my palms.

"These hands aren't made for killing," he says running his calloused palms over my smooth ones. "And not for me."

"Especially for you," I seethe.

He shakes his head and his eyes close. "What have I done to you?" He pulls me in and I breathe in the scent of his chest. "No more," he says sternly.

He tugs on my hair, my head falls back and he's my sky, my tower, the mountain I want to climb. He reprimands but his kiss tastes of empathy. I killed for him. No one has ever done that.

Second attempt is null, forgotten. The little clothes I have are off and his remain, blades and all. His palm cups me perfectly, running through heat, pushing at fabric, finding. My back against a sealed cabinet. Like a switch, I'm ready. My mountain and sky looks up at me, knowing, sun in his eyes. We can't seem to let go, not an instant. Echos in a hallway by the door. I hang on to shoulders, armed, so broad, for dear life and death, said palms running through his hair and back.

Third attempt at trying to dress is a charm. I tell him as he nuzzles my chest where the tusk sways, "You still haven't told me how you got it back." I pant. He helps me with my shirt**,** reluctantly letting go of my breast. I chuckle. _Just as obsessed. _

He places me on my feet and I watch him right his buckle. "Don't worry about it," he says. With a hard kiss, he walks to our room to finish dressing. I shake my head. I look around. I find my panties bundled in a corner. A warm mix if him and me where it's deliciously sore under my fingers. I stagger to the shower with moans rumbling through my red, bitten, chest.

"Cryptic bastard," I say from the bathroom. He laughs. And just that begs for a fourth attempt. The rarity of his deep laugh. But in no time, we're walking through the silent halls, my hand in his. The faint smile brightens his face still.

"Why a red ribbon?" I ask. My voice echos against the walls like hundreds are asking at the same time. I cringe. My face falls and so does his. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

He shakes his head. "It's stupid. Just a memory. Nothing." He doesn't look at me. His hand is tugged as I have stopped walking. He looks back.

"It's never stupid to me. I want to know everything, every secret you hold so tight. I can't read you sometimes."

He frowns. "You know everything."

I shake head. "You're still a mystery." I touch his face. I drop my hand when he doesn't say anything. I've pushed too far. "Just curious about you."

"You always were so curious." He grins. My eyes narrow. His words from so long ago insinuating my abrasiveness.

"I'll find out eventually." I continue walking towards the kitchen. I hear chattering, utensils clattering. My stomach rumbles with hunger. So easy to eat when things are just as they should be.

I'm suddenly pulled back a few steps. I hold my breath and he holds my back against his chest. I try to look at him but his lips run down my cheek keeping me still. He takes a long breath, like its hard for him.

"She left me...with a paper hanging from my neck. My name, my age and school name written on it. Just incase we got lost going to school or finding our school bus when we were kids and...she didn't have anything else, I guess, so...she cut up a bow from her silk dress to tie the paper around my neck. It was red."

My eyes close and I definitely shouldn't of asked.

"That was the last psychical thing my mother touched. It was hers," he says. "The only thing I have left." He touches the silk on my neck. _This one. This very one around me. God..._

"She never came back," I say.

"The color that stains my life. I was angry," he admits. The walls are blurred before me. I turn to hug him close.

"The color that gave me strength through everything. I wore it with pride when I had the chance," I confess. I look at him. He blinks. "It's like you were there...with me." I peck his speechless mouth.

I peel myself away from him and continue walking slowly. "At least she left you a color. Mine left me a stem cell research buried in my neck." I point.

He laughs again. I love it.

"Look at that," Alice says. Edward sobers but grins at her. "I don't think I've seen your teeth so regularly. They're actually nice."

He rolls his eyes.

I walk in and see Rosalie at the stove. Paul is sitting at the window sill looking out. He has Edward's borrowed clothes on but looks well rested. Emmett is at the table shooting daggers at Rosalie's back. He flips a table knife around his knuckles as his bare chest rises and falls calmly. The scar on his face looks deeper and I haven't stared long enough to remember him having one. His eyes cut to mine. I look away.

"Need help?" I ask Rose. She hands me the spatula silently. We get to work.

Alice talks to Edward about his wound and they're engrossed. Besides them, everything seems awkward. I turn the browning potatoes on the pan and pull them into a bowl. I place them on the table by Emmett and he stares at me. "Morning," I mumble. He doesn't say a word.

I grab the loaf of bread from the counter that's already cut in pieces. I place those on the table too. I practically jump right out of my skin. Emmett's thick hand grabs my wrist. Edward looks over.

"See this?" He points at his chest. There's a scar, like a burn, right over his heart. "That was you."

I hate myself for showing fear but my eyes are wide and my heart pounds. I pull my arm back.

"And that one was me. And that one was me, too," Rose points at Emmett in different places. "What's your point?" She asks him slamming a glass of orange juice in front of him. It splatters. "You deserved those, I'm sure you deserved that one." He laughs darkly.

I move away from him. Edward catches my eye. I shake my head.

"No one ever came so close, is what I mean. A Swan almost killed me. You don't care, baby?"

Rose makes a sound.

I grab a mug and pour some coffee. Rose and Emmett continue to argue as I walk up to Paul ignoring them.

"Hey." He looks back. I hand him the mug. "No foam. Just like you like it." He pushes a chuckle through his nose. "You ok?" I ask. He nods. He takes a sip. I want to talk to him but he's not well. I can tell. I sigh and walk away to help.

"Bella..." he murmurs. I turn. "I, uh..." He scratches his head and clears his throat. "I'm...I brought your duffle bag in this morning." He points to the black mound by the table.

I smile. "Thanks. Will the plane survive?"

"Oh, yeah...it's uh, fine. Just fixing the windshield." I nod and start to walk away. It's never been so awkward.

"Bella..." he calls again. I laugh this time.

"What?"

"I promise I will do anything I can for Charlie. I'll bring him here if that's what you want." He gives me a determined stare. This is his apology, his redemption.

"Really?"

"Consider it done," he assures me. I breathe deeply with his response.

"Please." I nod. "I would greatly appreciate it." He visibly relaxes. "Where will you go, Paul? You don't have a job now," I ask him.

He shrugs and takes a sip. "You have no idea what you have or what will come. You'll need all the help you can get." And I agree. Fully. I sit to eat knowing he's completely right and this scares me. _What do we do now?_

I need to talk to Carlisle.

We tuck in to eat silently. Everyone seems to be in their head. I look up to witness Paul spreading his odd kindness through simple things like a pass of a bowl or getting Rose whatever she needs—a napkin, a spoon for her coffee. He pulls his chair closely to hers. This only makes things tense with the fury spewing out of Emmett. He stabs at his food and glares. Then rattles his chair to get his own napkin.

I notice the Corporal isn't here. I'm about to ask when he's at the kitchen door. He looks at me.

"When you're all done, it's best you follow me." I stand without a thought, eager to move.

Edward softly grabs my arm. "When you're done. We'll all go," he assures me. My plate still full. I slowly sit back down. Emmett chuckles around his mug. I lift the fork and stab a potato. He's such a child.

Feeling Edward's warm hand down my back, I try to eat calmly but my breathing is choppy. Antsy.

After stuffing the rest of the food on my plate down my throat, Edward stands sighing, watching me. But I'm up and already walking towards the door. He follows me with his mug still in hand.

I take a left and rush down the hall when I hear a whistle. I turn and Edward points the other way. I roll my eyes and walk back. "Why is this place so fucking confusing?" I complain, passing him by. He chuckles. Alice, Rosalie and Paul follow with an angry Emmett trailing behind.

The room is big and dark. The monitor takes up a whole wall. The computer system is stacked at the end of a long table. Edward pulls out a chair at the front and I sink in watching the video surveillance in split screens on the wall.

"What is this?" I ask.

Jasper moves behind the keyboard and hits a few keys that light up. The eye over the compound zooms in. I can see the room and the windowsill I sat on once looking up at the sky.

"That freaked me out, by the way," I confess. He smiles.

"I've been keeping tabs on him. Doesn't look good. The army is sparse and you killed his last hope to partner with Japan.

"Toshiro said the Berry has advanced. Is it true?" I ask. Jasper nods. He hits a few keys. The screen switches to a map of the world, dark with fluorescent blue lines. It zooms into the city of Tokyo and over a tall building. The floors come to view and the skeleton of the interior.

"They've held all the experiments here, the main base," he says.

"We have to get rid of it." Everyone is quiet so I look back. They glance at Edward. "What?"

"We? No. _We _won't do a thing," he says. I turn in chair and how can he make me so angry in an instant?

"Excuse me?" I say to him. He folds his fingers to steeple under his chin. "I didn't ask your permission. I'm saying its what needs to be done and it has to do with me so I'm _deciding _to do this."

He grabs the mug and takes a sip. "No."

My mouth clamps shut. Jasper continues to speak.

"Point is, this is the most advanced operation the berry has developed into. They cloned the stem and managed to make an antidote to rebuild DNA to its original form. Only downside is its a forced clone. Chemicals only found in this lab is making it work. It's not a natural process. Risk of defects can occur in the future."

"There's a second key. It's what they're looking for now," Paul speaks up. "There's an army after it."

It's news to Alice and Jasper. They fire questions at him and Paul explains in detail Aro's determination to get it.

"Field trip," Emmett says with excitement. "Depends how far Tiny's plane over here goes." He smiles at Paul who glares.

"Far enough."

Edward is shaking his head where he sits. "Waste of time. You said it yourselves, they need the second key to continue. They can't do shit without it. They're done."

"I still won't stand it. Sit here watching them continue using it, testing it on people. How are we so sure they won't figure it out, make it worse?"

Jasper hits a key. No one answers. The screen changes to a split screen of media speaking of the berry. The one I already saw.

I stand to get closer. The video shows a crowd of protesters in front of a Phoenix inc. facility.

"We expose them," I say. I turn and everyone watches me. "We'll do this," I point. "Protesters won't let people suffer."

Jasper grins at me. "Maybe. To buy time? Definitely."

"Buying time for what?" Confused, I look at him and then Paul. They seem to communicate silently.

"You should probably hold off for the bad news."

My arm falls to my side. "Shit. What?" I look to Paul who's reluctant. I lean my hands on the table to get closer, waiting. "Speak up."

He sighs. "Bad news is Aro's already hunting down Toshiro's experiment. Riley informed me. They're on their way to Japan."

My stomach plummets. Everyone in the room who didn't know seem to simultaneously tense.

"Fuck," Edward mutters. He rubs his face.

"I told you. You're gonna need all the help you can get," Paul says to me.

"And you're telling us this now?" Emmett leans towards him. Paul's eyes narrow. "Are you holding anything else back that we should know? Spying? Telling Aro our every move." He turns to everyone. "I don't trust this fucker."

"Emmett," Rose snaps.

"Your boyfriend is a fucking spy. Some man you got there," he taunts. Rose's glare darkens. He laughs darkly, but it fades as he looks at Paul who seethes, arms crossed over his chest. Emmett runs the blade he's been playing with since breakfast across his own neck. He points it at him.

"Alright," I interject, lifting a hand. "Emmett...no time. Paul, keep up with Riley. I want to know _his _every move. Please thank him for me." I look at Edward who's lost in thought watching the monitors. "We need an army, Edward. We need Azar. Find him."

He shakes his head. "The key is more important. We have to find it first."

"I'll find it. Leave that to me."

He looks away from the screen and blinks up at me, his brows knit. "How?"

I lean over him and his lips are close. He straightens his shoulders and cranes his neck to look up at me. "Bella," he whispers, confused. I kiss him softly in front of watchful eyes, his remain open, watching me. He tries to pull away but I grab his neck.

His shirt is unbuttoned enough for my hand to slip through. Warm chest under my palm. I grab the butt of the Ivory and pull. Out.

I let go of his lips. "Carlisle. I'll get it from him." I pull away and I run.

My name shouted like murder behind me. I sprint through the door and down the halls. Edward's voice is terror in my bones. My steps quicken just hearing him. He runs and suddenly this feels like a moment so long ago.

I cock the gun when I see the bolted doors, just as they used to be. My shoulder connects with a bang. It swings open. The barrel of this ivory gun my guide. Left, right—no sign of Carlisle. His office a mess. The red carpeted floors is scattered with furniture and filth. A set of doors on the right and I run to those. Edward's boots are charging closely outside. I hurry.

One kick. The doors splay like a grand entrance. Eyes alarmed and fumbling sheets. I aim between Jelena's eyes.

"Get up," I order. Her face turns to a sneer. She nonchalantly swings her legs over the bed and stands. The sheets falling to the floor. The reeking smell of drugs and sex in the tense air.

Edward runs in behind me and stops.

"Put your clothes on and get out," I say swinging the barrel at her.

"You."

"Yes, me. Get the fuck out. You're done here."

A wheezing laugh comes from the bed. Carlisle pushes himself up on elbows. Falls and attempts it again. "Isabella. My hero. My darling. You're here," he slurs, but no one seems to pay him attention. My aim on her still.

BANG. One shot. She flinches. The plaster behind her splits. "Last chance," I warn.

She straightens her spine. Death in her eyes. "I will kill you, Marie Phoenix."

My stomach churns at the mention of that name. Anger like burning coal through my limbs. "Come at me, bitch. Try. Let's see it." I take a step around the bed. She steps away.

She smiles. "I'll make you pay...for James."

"I'm waiting." But we stare. Nothing. Her weight switches from one foot to the other. He hands curled into balls. I'll take her, I swear it, whatever she tries. My knuckles white on the handle.

A crash. A shreek. A grunt. I look behind me. Edward is pinning a woman to the floor. Her hair dark and scattered over her face. His hand around her neck, hers around a knife. Her face is pressed to the floor where she whimpers. But Edward's attention is at the bed. "Bella," he frantically calls, eyes widen and I know.

I look and everything slows. Jelena is holding a blade to Carlisle's throat.

The ricochet of shots are strong. I don't count. Her bare body falls to the floor. Red, like the carpet beneath her, scattered over her chest.

I breathe and she isn't. Her friend screams her name in agony, angry, while Carlisle chokes.

"Alice!" I yell at the top of my lungs. But she's already running through the door. I'm over Carlisle holding his neck. Blood stains everything. "God!"

Alice is pale when I look at her. "Who let them in here?" I shout over the chaos behind me. Edward pulls the woman to her feet. She falls again. Vanessa. Her makeup smeared and tears, a snarl on her lips.

"You bitch!" She screams. "I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!" She thrashes.

"Go tell Aro his plans went to shit." I wave a bloody hand. "Leave, or I swear I'll send him your head!"

She falls to her knees and she's laughing. Her silk slip sags at her chest. Edward's hand still around her neck. "He's dying." She laughs. "Mission accomplished, sir!" She waves a hand and salutes sloppily. Her demonic guffaw is angering.

I'll kill her. I swear it. But Rosalie's fist connects with her face first.

"Get her out of my sight, or I swear..." I yell, turning back to my occupied hands.

"My pleasure," Emmett steps in and she's a rag doll in his arms. Visions of her, falling through the sky, onto an open forest is so vivid. I can't help but cringe.

I look at Paul and he's speechless, looking after Emmett's victim. She screams and screams. Edward finds my eyes. Fury. I shake my head. "They were here all along. How?"

He runs his hands through his hair and hurries to the bed to look at Alice work. She's oddly quiet. Her hands tremble but she doesn't waver. Jasper helps her with towels and sheets that turn crimson.

"They left. It's been a year, Bella. I didn't know." Edward's brows furrow. He's watching Carlisle who's eyes strain to look at him. He's still. His sweaty skin pale and sickly.

"I need to move him," Alice finally speaks. Edward, Jasper and Paul grab the blanket from under him and lift. I follow them down the hall to the lab, Alice still holding his neck.

_God if he dies, everything, everything will be gone. _I can barely breathe as I hold his legs.

The lab never felt so large. Hast steps and fumbling hands to get to things. Alice's orders loud and stern. I help with sanitized rags and tubes and things she points to.

Edward stands by Carlisle, elbow deep in red. He looks down at the man we all need alive but are equally angry with. His face is blank as he holds onto the wound, waiting on Alice, but Edward watches him. Carlisle's eyes still looking up. I'm pulling on sheets to cover him, to keep his body temperature from dropping.

I see it. Carlisle reaches to hold Edward's arm. They have a silent quarrel as he squeezes. Alice comes up to the bed and presses over Edward's hands. She looks, too. Scared, angry, hurt. Her eyes swimming in tears that never fall. Carlisle blindly looks for her hand and tells her a story through a gaze.

"Last time. I won't save you again," she whispers through teeth. He blinks, but knows she would. She can't help it.

Slowly but surely, He begins to push at their hands. "Let go," he mouths, a rasp barely audible. "Let me go then." Tears slip from his eyes.

"No," I grit. I fight to pin his hands. His knuckles white over their clasps hands keeping his life in a tight thread.

And he says this, "I want to die." My heart sinks. Humbled, feeling nothing but compassion now for this mess, his hurt and pain.

"Not today." Tears streak to my chin. "I need you to breathe." His eyes turn to me. "Please," I plead. I thread my fingers through his when he lifts a palm to my cheek. His thumb warm and soft and comforting.

"Isabella." He whispers my name, but fades. Unconsciousness devours him.

I look at Alice. She shakes her head and sighs. She grabs a tool and pulls on the rags to look. Edward lets go. "It's fine, I need him unconscious," she assures me. I try to breathe.

Edward wipes at his forehead with an arm. Exhausted. The day has barely begun. He looks at me and looks away. He heads to the sink. He's angry. I follow him. Jasper takes my place to help Alice.

"They would've killed him. He would've died alone and we would've never known. That's what they wanted," I explain to him. He doesn't speak as he runs his hands and arms through water turning pink. "Don't be angry. I can't take it. Please." I bury my face on his arm.

He pulls me hard. My hands in his and he washes the blood away from my palms. He throws his arm behind me to reach a soap. Tears fall as he cleans my hands. "I'm sorry," I whisper and that sets him off. I'm pulled. I gasp.

His beautiful angry expression scares me. He grabs my shoulders and holds me arms length.

"You don't make plans without me. That's the last time. Don't ever pull that shit on me again!"

I nod. My eyes wide and unblinking.

He's panting with the exertion, but it slows. He tries to sober and he's holding me hard. I shrug slowly to pull away, but he doesn't let go. His forehead falls to mine and I try to stay still.

"What would I have done if something were to happen to you?"

"I didn't expect them. I just wanted..."

He shakes his head. "No. Not without me. You and me. Not just you now."

I nod. I sigh so deeply. Because I loved how my chest felt when he said that. It's not just me anymore. "Ok."

"Good," he ends this. He pulls on my hands to continue cleaning them, grabbing a towel for both of us.

He walks out and I follow. But not before I look after Alice to see if she needs anything. She's wearing blues and gloves and she's a surgeon now. She asks us to leave as she rolls Carlisle into another smaller room where everything is sterilized.

Carlisle's room is eerily quiet. Edward grabs a blanket from a chair and without a word, pours it over the woman who was. I watch from the door where he lifts her wrapped like a mummy. He lays her on the bare bed. He straightens and looks at me. "Come, I'll show you how to dig a hole and clean up after yourself."

He walks around the bed and stands in front of me. "Thank you, alright?" He looks at the floor and walls, at anything. "If it wasn't for your stunt..." he says, running his fingers through his hair.

"Wasn't a stunt, Jesus. I just needed to get information out from a delirious man who hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," he says as his shoulders drop. He walks out the room. I follow.

"He didn't care if I died when I was last here. He launched me into a forest alone," I object.

He reaches the exit, industrial doors already open. "You were...difficult. Even I wanted to kill you," he admits.

"Nice."

He shrugs and walks around the field where the plane is visible. We see Rose, Paul and Emmett. Vanessa is out of sight.

The chopper's propellers are moving. They're leaving. My steps falter when I see the love triangle under a storm. They're too far and propellers are far too loud to hear them. But I can see what's happening. Emmett is the pilot, waiting. His aviators covering the malice in his eyes. He's red. Fire. But not a word is uttered with shock when we all watch Paul lean in and kiss Rose. His thumb and index tilting her chin just so. Emmett looks away, head down, his temples tense where he bites down. Paul pulls back and jogs to the open entrance. He shuts himself in after looking out one last time.

"Oh shit." I can't help it. Edward rubs his chin just as taken aback as me.

Rose slowly makes her way over to me as the bird lifts to the sky. Edward walks away to a shed behind us, not interested in hearing the details. Rose stands by me and watches the chopper far away. She crosses her arms over her chest, then fidgets with her hair. It's quiet...and awkward. I look at her. "So..."

"He's getting Charlie," she quietly responds. I nod.

We look off to a tiny helicopter now, just a speck. I wonder if Emmett will push Paul off, too, along with the brunette.

When the silence is excruciating Rosalie huffs. "I don't need your judgement, alright? If you think we're _besties_ who'll yap over cocktails about this, then you can forget it!" she yells and walks away leaving me gaping.

Edward hands me a shovel and gloves. "Ready?" My stomach drops. This day has turned from shit to fucked.

He leads me to a patch of grass behind trees far off from the lab and begins to dig up earth. I stand there and watch. How many times has he done this? _Clean up after himself. _Images of his bulging arms, straining to dig my grave right up, too. My stomach churns.

"Here," he calls me over with two fingers and points to a patch. I quickly help him without hesitation. He always helps to patch my sins, its only fair. _Him and me now. _My love for him soars.

Two hours later, her body is lowered into the ground with my help. I'm sweating, streaks down my neck and back. He wipes his face with the shirt he took off earlier. The gun halter still tied to him. For two hours I fixed my wandering eyes hundreds of times, but still find myself staring. My muscles screamed but I dared not complain. Pushing myself with every dig.

He stands by me and looks down the hole we've created. "You've had practice," I say not looking at him.

He pushes dirt with a boot over a crisp white sheet and covers it, first step to sealing this. "I mostly let your father clean it up for me," he says with strain as he works. And I remember. Days when I worked, the crime scenes, the full morges. Sheltering the bodies of the worst criminals in the city. All of them, _him._

He kisses my temple and grabs the tools to head back, leaving me behind. I stand here watching the fat ground and I look at my red, blistered hands.

These really weren't made for killing, not like his. But I still have one more to go. One that makes them itch with longing. I can see it now. Aro's blood all over them...to keep innocent blood from spilling.

—•—••—•

The shower rains down on me. Like heaven. Like life breathed into me again. I dress quickly and try to find Edward. The kitchen is on its way to the lab. I see Edward's black duffle bag. I grab it and head straight to Alice.

She's in her white coat now. Slowly making her way around to get more things. I look and see Carlisle sedated in the middle of the room. Tubes and machines all over him. He looks older than I remembered. His platinum hair in disarray. His eyebrows barely visible under the light. Alice is beside me.

"He's fine. Should be a quick recovery. He was lucky...or you were quicker." I look at her, she clears her throat. "I...uh...I didn't know. If I did I'd kill them myself," she says angrily. "He was clean. Quiet but calm. I had conversations with him. Long ones."

"What about?"

She shrugs. "The berry. Aro. You." She fixes the blanket over him and checks a line. "He wanted you back just as much as Edward. He didn't say but I knew."

"I know why he's become this way. Why he's bitter," I confess.

Her brows knit and she looks at me. "What do you mean?"

I bend and pull out photos from the cabin. "These."

She gently holds them, she places some over Carlisle's blanket. She lifts the group image I first saw. I point. "That's you."

Her hand finds her lips. Blurred eyes, instantly, through her glasses. "It's her. That's her." Her voice trembles, as she points at her mother. I lean my chin on her shoulder and smile.

"Carlisle, too. And my mother and me, see?" I point. I frown when her fingertip finds Aro.

"Charlie and...," she points, "I don't know who that is."

"Aro," I whisper. Her eyes cut to me in horror.

"What?"

I swallow thickly and pick up the photo of him and me. "He was an acquaintance. They were like family. He loved my mother..." I can't look at her. "It's why he killed her...he told me."

Alice gasps. "Bella..."

"Please don't...tell anyone. It's done. Forget it." She's quiet. But she hugs me anyway. We look at the image together. Her finger finds the little boy on a blanket.

"I don't know who this is."

I shake my head. "We don't either, but you had a brother. He died, too. You see? It's why Carlisle's always been like this. His wife and child gone. Probably killed by Aro."

Alice is speechless. She shifts in my embrace and looks at Carlisle. "I want to wake him...or strangle him. Why didn't he tell me?" I'm at a loss for words.

Edward and Jasper walk in. Edward is still filthy from the dig but he looks to be on a mission. "We have to get parts for the plane. Rosalie is still trying to get in contact with Azar. All we can do is wait."

I nod and wrap an arm around his waist. He sees the photos and frowns at Alice. "So you know," he says swiping a finger down her cheek. "Sorry, kiddo." He looks down at Carlisle and sighs. "We better go. You'll be alright?" He asks me. I grin up at him. "No stunts while I'm away."

I roll my eyes. He bends and catches my lips, once, twice. Salty and earthy. He tastes divine. I flush all over as I watch him walk out.

"How will we figure this out?" I sigh.

Alice shakes her head. "Miracle."

The rest of the day is gone with waiting...and more waiting. Rosalie is somewhere working, or sulking, who knows. Edward and Jasper work outside around the clock to get the plane sealed. And I'm stuck here—wishing Carlisle would wake to tell me all the answers I need to know. We're running out of time.

It's dark now, I can see it through the small windows high up at the ceilings and I fall asleep on a table watching Carlisle breathing. Alice is enthralled with work in her office close by, the light pouring in from her office into the dark lab. Sounds of machines working, breathing for him, lull me to sleep. But I dream of blood and red hair and sharp blades in a six foot hole crawling out. Anger surges every time I start awake.

But he's still the same. Gone into unconsciousness where nothing hurts and memories won't haunt him. I cry. Tears dry up. Hours. How can I be this close, yet still so far.

I awake. I find my bearings. The dim light of the office is gone. I look around and it's dark but for Carlisle's bedside. It brightens a table with water and ice. I blink and he did move. The blanket lifts at his hand and drops again.

I run to him. His eyes move and flicker open. My heart pounds. "Carlisle," I whisper. He's trying to speak.

I get closer and his lips move. "Esme," he says. My heart sinks.

"It's me, Bella." I hold his hand. His eyes close and tears leak. Reality hurts. His mouth is dry so I grab the cup and a sponge. He licks his lips and a sound of relief seeps out of him. I feed him chips of ice that melt on his tongue.

"You know," I begin to speak. "I never knew my mother would be so brave, strong...brilliant. I feel like I never knew her. What was she like?" I ask him. He won't answer but I get his brain working. He looks to be lost in thought. "You said once I look a lot like her. I always hoped I would. I'd dream she was queen of the land and I was her princess, who she'd try to rescue. Silly wasn't it?"

His eyes blink up at me. His lips move. "No. She was," he barely whispers. Tears fill my lids right up.

"Yeah well," I give him one more piece of ice. "I still believe it sometimes. I'm sure Alice feels the same about her mother still."

His eyes close.

"Aro told me. Everything." I whisper, swallowing a lump.

He blinks. Blurred blue eyes look up at me. Sympathy swimming in them.

"I'm guessing Esme went through the same as Renee." The beeping machines grow faster. I rub his chest. "Calm," I plead.

"I'm angry too," I whisper, "It isn't fair. But...I have to keep moving. I want to live and...finish what Renee started. Don't you?"

An exhale pushes out of his nose. His eyes close.

I grab a photo from the pile on a table. "I found this and it gave me strength." I show him the group photo. His eyes scans it. His trembling hand lifts and he touches it. "He told me you were all friends. I didn't believe it."

I watch his finger skim Esme's face. I switch the image to Esme and the boy. He cries.

"Alice saw, she cried, too," I say. He takes a staggering breath. He pulls the image from my hands.

"Where's the second key, Carlisle? I have to know." I ask after he stares for awhile.

His brows furrow and he looks at me. He asks without asking.

"They figured it out," I explain. He gives the photos his full attention. "You made two didn't you? Did Renee know?" I wait.

"Carlisle."

"No," he audibly says. Faint, but true. I sigh. My head falls on his arm.

"They'll do anything to find it. What if they do?" I look at him. His focus on the redhead in the image. I pull it away from him. He sighs. "People are dying."

"No."

"Damn it, why can't you tell me?"

"Leave it," he tries. His eyes full of anger.

"We can't just..."

"Isabella!" he shouts. He cringes and red seeps through the gauze around his neck. _Shit. _I keep silent, feeling like a chastised child. He breathes until the machines slow. "It's...not worth...no more," he says breaking the silence.

"So we should let it all go? Forget there's a cure to save lives and just crush my mother's dreams? Let them have it all...kill everyone?"

He doesn't respond. I want to break something. Fall and just let go and scream my lungs out. I lean on the bed and my head dips. Still, he's quiet.

"Aro's out to get Toshiro's experiments. Did you know that? He's taking it all," I say through gritted teeth, "I won't let him. I can't!" But nothing from him. I walk away. My hands combing through my hair I take long breaths and stare at an x-ray film through a dim bulb that tells me nothing.

I turn and he stares up at a vacant ceiling. My spine straightens. I lift my fist with all the photos gripped. "At least tell me if it's safe, if they'll ever get to the key. Where is it? I'll take it to my grave."

He watches me. His eyes piercing right through me. Nothing. I let out a strangled cry and fall at his side, elbows on the bed, hands through my hair. My knees give in and so do I.

I'm so tired. Time is sand through my hands and I have no control over the grasp. My face presses to the cotton sheets and I wish it would suffocate me. Let me die and be buried by Renee. It would be so easy to give up everything. It would be. Almost.

The crinkle of an old photo skids to my side. I look. His shaking finger points. I straighten and look up at him. He watches me intently as I look back at the photo.

"Him? He has it?" I ask. My heart picks up. He sighs and looks away. I look back at the boy on the blanket. The answer in my hands all along. I stare and stare and this boy was just as burdened as me.

"Did my mother know?" I ask him when I look up. Carlisle remains silent, but I know. Not a soul knew. His eyes close. Tears fill mine once again. Of course, this makes sense. A burden for me, a burden for his eldest son.

"Where is he?" I ask. My heart holds a thump, waiting, hoping when I ask, "Is he dead?" Carlisle's eyes crack open, crisp blue irises drowning. He doesn't say yes...but he doesn't say no. I grow tense with anxiety. I grab his hand, it's hot and still trembling. The machine that beats steady, quickens.

The lab doors open and Edward walks in. He's looking for me. When he sees us, he comes quickly to my side, taking in my expression. His gaze moving from me to Carlisle.

And I know. My heart stops for this instance of clarity. In my periphery, Carlisle looks to Edward just as I am, with wonder...but his heart is louder than mine. Machines can't lie.

"Everything alright?" Edward asks me tentatively, but he watches the guilt-ridden man who keeps secrets buried inside.

I understand, like blurs morphing to focus, why it's so hard for Carlisle. Why he wants to feel numb—to keep the guilt from killing him. Why he took Edward, Alice, all of them, from under Aro's thumb. He's fixing the monumental mistake he made years ago to run off and grieve for Esme alone. But it's too late. Now, one secret cannot be revealed without the other. He broke his own son in more ways than one.

Empathy flows like a wave. After all Edward has been through, I would...I would keep silent, too if I were him. Because the preying beast that lives in Edward will crawl out, make its presence. He would kill the father he's been searching for in this bed he lies in.

So I say it, because I need father and son, both, alive. "The key is gone."

—•—•—••

**A/N Maybe 2 more after this and an epi? What would you like to see resolved? No really, remind me. I forget the details. Should be a fun exercise right?**

**Random thought: Watching Kill Bill makes me want to write a cray fic where everyone dies at the end. Not sure if I should, or just publish this one. Hm. Shrug.**


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